


The Hunted

by CaptainCinderBella, PandoraCleo



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canada, Amnesia, Blood Magic, Canada, Complete, F/M, Magic, Ritual Magic, Witch Curses, Witch Hunters, Witches, Yonvers - Freeform, modern witches, scruffy witch bro Talos, witch bros, yonvers appreciation week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:33:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCinderBella/pseuds/CaptainCinderBella, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraCleo/pseuds/PandoraCleo
Summary: *Completed*Vers is a highly skilled member of the Astrabellators, an elite squadron of Witch hunters, fighting God's Holy war against the evils of magic.Witches killed her family and cursed her memory; in recompense the Supreme gave her ‘holy’ powers to help fight the magical scourge under General Rogg.However, not all is what it seems. Secrets lie waiting to be unveiled.~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~A gift fic for our amazing Yonvers fandom Mum/Mom DenseHumboldt!Cover by AnonymousMink.PlaylistbyEosdawns
Relationships: Carol Danvers & Maria Rambeau, Carol Danvers & Maria Rambeau & Monica Rambeau, Carol Danvers & Monica Rambeau, Carol Danvers & Nick Fury, Carol Danvers & Talos, Carol Danvers & Yon-Rogg, Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg, Maria Rambeau & Monica Rambeau, Maria Rambeau & Talos, Nick Fury & Maria Rambeau, Nick Fury & Monica Rambeau, Nick Fury & Talos, Soren/Talos (Marvel)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 29





	1. Purpose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DenseHumboldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenseHumboldt/gifts).



> A HUGE thank you to DenseHumboldt for being our amazing Yonvers fandom Mum/Mom. We love you and hope you enjoy this fic!
> 
> Bow down to CaptainCinderbella, for it was her idea to spoil DH as a thank you.
> 
> Thanks to Mink for her patience with us, and amazing collab and Beta skills. Not to mention the amazing cover art.
> 
> Shout out to [Eosdawns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eosdawns/pseuds/eosdawns), [elenapadmeamidala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenapadmeamidala/pseuds/elenapadmeamidala) and [GrotesqueEnchantment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrotesqueEnchantment/pseuds/GrotesqueEnchantment), for their ongoing support, encouragement and amaxing ideas which helped us on our way.

“What brings you here child?” the deep disembodied voice of The Supreme floated through the wooden lattice separating the compartments of the confessional. 

_ Yon, _ she thought. 

It had been a nightmare that had sent her here, well, a nightmare that Yon had awakened her from.  _ Again _ . She had been gripped by fear, the half-memories smothering her. She had heard her name  called from a distance,  _ ‘Vers…  _ _ Vers… _ _ ”  _ but she couldn’t break free from it by herself. 

Hands grabbed her shoulders , waking her with a jolt. A scream  caught in her throat as a face loomed over her in the low light of her room. Her mind had calmed, senses returning as the hands  softened , Yon gently stroking her face, shushing her softly as he chased away what haunted her. 

The look of concern on his face  had twisted her insides. She hated disappointing him, he was so kind and  _ strong _ . He taught her to be better, to be the best version of herself, and yet she couldn’t escape this one weakness. This  endless fear from her past. 

He had been so close, leaning over her in her cot, his golden eyes shining from the candle he had bought with him.  Was it pity  she saw  behind the concern in his gaze?  It was all she could do to keep from reaching up  and kissing him to keep the feelings swirling through her at bay. 

But such thoughts were nonsense; he was their General and there could be nothing more between them. Their divine mission was too important for distractions of the flesh.

“General Rogg requested I seek your guidance, your worship,” she admitted  to her feet, hands clenched tightly behind her back.

“Nightmares again, child?” the voice asked with what she could only assume was concern.

“Yes…” she was ashamed of it,  ashamed of her lack of control. 

“Tell me, child, what did you see?” 

She told them,  reliving the dream with every word she spoke.  It was almost always the same. Smoke filled her lungs, and heat lapped at her skin. She had been trapped in a house, the roof  already burning, collapsing around her. She stumbled, eyes burning, from her bed and into the cold night, the air stinging her lungs. 

The village was on fire, screams  echoing from every direction.  Faceless forms moved in the shadows of the night;  jarring blue light arcing past her. Colours that had no place in the burning red. The light burst from the hands of another shape, another person, dying suddenly as an arrow found its target and he fell.

A foreboding figure stalked between the houses , face hidden beneath their hood  from the light of the fires. 

Another man with magic sparking from his hands came running at her, screaming in rage. The hooded figure cut him down with their sword before he could reach her  but it was too late, an explosion of fire and magic hit her.  She slammed back into the wall of her home, crumpling  to the ground as a woman with kind eyes and dark skin cried out to her from across the yard.  Her voice a keening wail as she was dragged away. 

Vers’ limbs were weak as she struggled to move, her lungs protesting against the choking smoke in the air. She had heard her name as if it was caught on the breeze, a whisper of relief in the unbearable heat _._ Then another blast of magic hit the roof above her head, the fire roaring as rubble rained down. Her eyes widening as she watched in slow motion as a heavy beam broke loose, tumbling towards her to finish it.

It was then she had awoken to the strong hands of Yon, it was his voice that she had heard calling her.  It was always his voice.

The eyes of the woman she did not know haunted her afterwards, she didn’t remember who she was or what had happened to her, but Vers felt like she  _ knew _ her anyway. A hole in her heart  forming in the shape of a face she couldn’t remember, aching at the loss of the woman and the memory. With each night the dreams came,  leaving her sweating and agitated as she awoke. Certain she was meant to be another path, one that lead to the woman, not the war they were fighting. 

The woman was a link to her past,  the _ only _ link she had.

But then  Yon was there, reminding her that her purpose was with God and his divine war against the witches.  When it wasn’t enough, when he sensed doubt in her soul, like tonight, he would send her to confess to the Supreme. So confess she did.

“Your past is gone child, it is nothing more than ash; burnt away at the hands of the witches,” the voice whispered to her. “It was providence that General Rogg found you in time to save you. He bought you to us, shared his blood and strength with you. He saved you from the clutches of the death that had claimed your family. In His divine righteousness, God Himself, has chosen you to be His weapon in this war. He has bestowed upon you the powers to avenge your loved ones, to avenge _all_ the loved ones of those taken by the witches and their heathen ways.” 

The burden and importance of what had happened to her were never far from Vers’ mind. She understood how blessed she had been, how blessed she  _ was.  _ She was  thankful beyond words, working twice as hard as  any other initiate  to be worthy of the honour gifted to her. She knew the Supreme must know this too,  for they knew everything , but their need to remind her often stung her more than humbled her.

She had not yet freed herself from the sin of pride.

“It is now your duty, your calling, to protect the innocent of this land,”  the Supreme said, voice strong and unmoving as a mountain, “consider perhaps that it is God’s  _ mercy _ that you do not remember more of your past.  He has freed you to focus only on the present, on the gifts bestowed upon you, turn your mind to those who need your help here, not those long lost to the passage of time.”

The Supreme spoke true; their divine purpose was to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Vers knew it, knew she shouldn’t let herself  be consumed by  a memory she wasn’t even sure was  real .  But logic wasn’t always her strong point.

“I know your worship,” she tucked her head against her chin, unable to keep herself from adding, “but I still feel like my path may be elsewhere. That I must find and save the girl from my dreams.”

The voice sighed. 

Vers knew her doubts frustrated the others, the Supreme included.  They were all so  _ certain _ of themselves, t hey knew who they were and what their purpose was. They weren’t haunted by insecurities and an unknown past  like she was . It was easier for them; they couldn’t understand why she felt so lost.

“Have we not helped you, child? Taken you in and sheltered you as you recovered?” They asked her,  a thrum of exasperation breaking the stillness of their voice. Like they were tired of having to remind her of her loyalty to their cause.

“Yes, Your Supreme-ness.”

“Did the General not save you from death by giving you his very blood?”

“He did, Your Supreme-ness”

“Did he not promise to help you avenge your family?”

“He has –”

“–  _ And _ has he not spent his time training you?”  They interrupted her, as unstoppable as the tide, “Mentoring you? Forging you into a weapon of righteousness to achieve that very goal, to protect and defend the innocent lives of the people of this land?”

“Yes, Your worship, he has, and more.” She felt like a child being chastised,  guilt rolling in her belly at her own wilful nature. Her  _ faithlessness _ . They had done so much for her...

“I have faith in you and your strength, have faith in me and God in return.” The Supreme offered,  absolutely final as Vers squeezed her eyes shut, “Now go child, seek out the General, God’s work is to be done!” 

The cover behind the lattice slid shut with the scraping thud of wood against wood, leaving her suddenly alone. The dark oak walls surrounding her began to feel more like a coffin than the safety of the confessional.

Breathing hard she quickly stumbled out of the confessional and into the  empty chill of the ancient Roman hall their sanctuary was built around. The sound of her footfalls echoed against the stone as she  hurried towards the courtyard, where she knew Yon would be waiting for her. As she walked through the doors into the crisp morning air she saw him,  he was standing next to the fountain in the small garden, which sat at the centre of the abbey. His back was turned to her as he watched the sun rise above the walls. 

She  couldn’t help but notice the tension in his shoulders in the way he stood. Tension she had caused. A pang of guilt lanced through her, she wanted to make him proud, to earn his respect as her mentor and leader,  she had failed. Again.

Although she would never admit it aloud, she hated when her actions caused him  trouble , at least when that was not her intended outcome. It was different when she misbehaved on purpose,  trying to break through the tough exterior he wore like armour just to make him smile. Those were the sweetest  victories. The other times,  when she only  managed to annoy or frustrate him, still had their moments.

This wasn’t like that, it wasn’t an act of wilful mischief. It was a  _ failure _ .

Yon turned,  as if s ensing her approach and smiled softly at her. He  was the only one she could never sneak up on,  no matter how well he had trained her in the art of stealth. She had surpassed all her fellow witch hunters easily, including Minerva, much to the woman’s ire, yet somehow she could never surprise the General. 

It was almost as if he had some sixth sense that knew exactly where she was at all times. Which was impossible, such a thing would be magic and magic was forbidden,  but she was still impressed by his skill. It was why,  she supposed, he was the General and she wasn’t. A fact he would often remind her of when she attempted to be smart with him.

“Ready for your morning training?” he asked her as she approached through the small shrubberies towards him.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” she teased. He smiled at her again, she knew it was forbidden to discuss what was said in confession  and that he’d  therefore never ask her how it went or what was spoken. He knew she would be fine, that the guidance offered would help, but she still liked to be asked and teased him every chance she could.

The look he shot her spoke volumes, walking the fine line between amusement and exasperation. It was the kind of look she worked hardest to win  whenever she could, the kind that reminded her he was still human under all his divine purpose. 

Just as she was about to make another smart comment, her stomach made an almighty growl. He looked  pointedly at  her middle where the offending sound had come from,  making her face heat in embarrassment as she stifled a giggle not fit for a warrior of her calibre.

“Perhaps breakfast, and then training?” he offered  with a hitch of his eyebrow. She nodded, still not sure she wouldn’t laugh and they walked in step towards the kitchens to break their fast.

* * *

“Why can’t we just shoot them again?” Vers asked, huffing her hair from her face in exasperation.

“Because witches-”

“ _ Witches can curse firearms”  _ she finished for him rolling her eyes, “Yes I know, it was a rhetorical question. Although I don’t see why I can’t just blast them…”

“You need to know how to fight  _ without _ your powers. There are moments in the heat of a battle where you may find yourself  without them . You  could injure someone, or yourself. A spell might block your powers  _ just _ long enough for the enemy to take advantage of you.” He shook his head, “To rely solely on your powers is a weakness, and weakness only serves to help the enemy.” His point was punctuated with a swing of his sword towards her abdomen. She twisted  backwards away from his blade, blocking the return parry.

“Easy for you to say, your armour is a lot less restrictive!” She felt it unfair that the social mores of propriety, especially in this day and age, still meant she had to be entirely covered with a breast plate, not only just when she fought but when she trained.  It would have been easier if she could just wear her usual bike gear, a Kevlar top and leather jacket,  but the traditions of  the Warrior order  demanded otherwise. 

The Astrabellators were the paramount of virtue, and no exception could be made in upholding the  word of the church.

“ I don’t think it would suit me as well. Just consider it another challenge to overcome,”  he shot her a crooked smile as their swords met again. 

The heavy ring of metal on metal  echoed in the cavernous hall of the training room. She was growing tired of being on the defensive, blocking blows and losing ground. 

“I think I’ve proven suitably successful at overcoming challenges.” She drew the smaller training blade at her belt and slashed at him,  trying to put him on defense.

“Vers…” he growled as a warning, “You must hone your skills as a warrior, and the n continue to do so  over and over , even  after you think the task is complete. It will never be done, we must always be ready.” 

He grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back, pinning her to him. She dropped the dagger, his fingers digging into the delicate tendons of her wrist. 

“You must never let the enemy get the better of you, all they need is one cut, one drop of blood and you are theirs to curse.” He spoke low in her ear as she struggled against him, “blood is weakness, ours and theirs. We have iron and the light of your powers but they… they are devilish, unnatural creatures. We will defeat them, but you must give them no quarter.” 

Slamming an elbow backwards in a futile movement she found herself clutched tighter against him than ever, his strength working in his favour as  she fought to restrain her power. To win the hard way.

“ You are too impatient, too hasty.”  His breath was hot against the delicate shell of her ear, voice so low she could feel it in her bones, “Haste is the enemy of goodness, and we embody goodness.” 

She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back as he lingered, holding her for a long moment before he finally stepped away. She felt the absence of his warmth against her in the cool morning air.

She watched as he turned his back to her, leaning  down to retrieve her dagger. A dagger he had gifted her on their very first mission, after she had fully recovered from the  trauma of her unknown past . Like all their weapons the blade was iron, however the hilt was gilded in gold. The pommel  engraved with the symbol of the Astrabellators, a multi-pointed star with a cross inside its centre. 

Each warriors’ star was unique, like their soul. Hers had 8 points, like the one Yon wore. A medallion with the same crest sat heavy around her neck, part of their uniform to protect against the witches. Blessed by the Supreme themselves to guard them body and soul from the darkness.

Yon’s thumb traced the star on the pommel as he passed the dagger back to her,  holding firm as she reached to take it from him.

“Your gifts are extraordinary Vers, but what is gifted can be taken away. Never take them for granted, you must  learn to  be strong without them.” The weight of his words settled over her, as did the concern in his voice and eyes.

“General!” The title echoed across the training area and the moment was broken. It was Minerva, glaring as she approached, Yon broke away from Vers’ side to meet her, “ The Bishop needs you in the Ops room, General. An alert has come in from some of our agents in the field.” She informed them curtly.

“Thank you, Minerva.” General Rogg left with a curt nod,  heading  towards the Ops room at the heart of their facility. 

Vers sheathed her weapons, trailing behind the General on instinct only to be  cut off by Minerva. She had waited  until Vers was  right beside her before  stepping in her way,  casting one last look of disdain over her shoulder as  she took the lead. 

For reasons Vers didn’t understand, Minerva did not like her. It felt as if the woman almost purposefully went out of her way to antagonise her, to prove she wasn’t as virtuous as they all thought.  Maybe it was jealousy that drove Minerva to that end, she didn’t know.  She’d never get a true answer from her after all. Better to take the higher ground and try her best to ignore the woman.

The Ops room was alive with action as they entered,  every console linking their global operations lit up; some with security feeds, other with maps or intel files. Personnel were moving between the consoles, talking in hushed tones as they generated their reports. 

At the centre of the chaos stood the Bishop, Ronan, towering over them  at the head of the giant war table, tablet in hand and an assistant nattering in his ear.  He was a serious man, so serious she’d once joked to her fellow initiate At-lass that he must have been cursed. How else could his face always be fixed in the  _ exact same _ grave expression?

Minerva had overheard and they were both placed on kitchen duty for a month for their insolence. 

The Bishop wore the same grave expression now  as he scrolled through something on his tablet. This time though Vers felt he must be wearing the look in earnest, she had the foreboding sense that  whatever he was looking  at heralded bad news. 

As they approached, the Bishop dismissed the assistant, handing him the tablet and waving him on his way. The General approached the table, positioning himself  at the opposite end to the Bishop.

“Our Prague location has discovered some disturbing information, which they have brought to our immediate attention. Operatives there unearthed a coven hiding in the catacombs of the city’s old town. They looked to be unearthing old relics, with nefarious intent. After questioning a few of the captured witches, they believe this particular coven was aligned with the Druid Talos.” The Bishops deep voice recounted the events in the report, as the General read through details on the screen before him.

“What kind of relics?” Vers asked out of curiosity,  earning herself a slew of warning looks from those around her. She had spoken out of turn.

“It is uncertain, the team is cataloging the remains now. They were however located in a tomb belonging to a Knight Templar. One which our forefathers had purposely sealed to prevent the remaining contents from falling into the wrong hands.” The Bishop pulled up images taken from the scene and displayed them on the table. Vers recognised some of the markings on the stone floor, ancient holy seals to ward off demons and practitioners of the darker elements of witchcraft. Most of which were broken, not an easy feat.

Yon slowly shook his head at what he was seeing, his eyebrows creased in confusion “In tombs such as this, important magical artifacts are normally confiscated and archived in Rome. Only minor items are left remaining, the seals are only precautions." The General attempted to puzzle out what he was seeing. "Whatever was left in there must be important to Talos, otherwise why waste the effort and risk being caught?" 

“Indeed General. That is what we suspect."  The Bishop made a gesture and a new scene filled the screen, a mix of  pictures  obviously taken from the same location. "Equipment at the scene suggests they were in the process of shipping what they found to an overseas location. We are currently tracing the shipping documents to intercept the existing shipments,  but the  company used to ship the goods is a Canadian conglomerate; it’s been linked with the potential trafficking of forbidden goods and even with witches in and out of the Americas. We suspect that perhaps Canada is their final destination.”

“Canada?” questioned the General. He seemed puzzled “Why Canada?”

“Our intel is increasingly suggesting that the rumoured lost druid tribe is located somewhere in Northern America and growing its numbers. With the increasing hostilities against foreigners in the US, it is believed that more covens are crossing the border towards a safer haven further north. Our operatives have yet to gain firm intel on the matter, but we suspect that the lack of information only increases the likelihood of it being true.”

The Bishop paused to draw breath, making steady, uncomfortable eye contact with each person around the table. His eyes heavy and disapproving as the Supreme themselves.

“Regardless,” he continued once they had all been suitably cowed, “what we do know is that these heretics in Prague have been linked to Talos, and as the Druid wasn’t captured in the raid we can only assume he is waiting at the final destination for his shipment. We should seek the guidance of the Supreme for the next steps on this matter.” 

His piece said the Bishop nodded once before turning on his heel, walking away from them through the rectory without a second glance. 

Without a signal from their leader, Vers and Minerva already knew what needed to be done. They went to collect the others and inform them a mission would be starting soon. They would all need to pack for the journey; ready food, supplies, weapons, and armour,  safe in the knowledge the logistics of the journey would be organised for them.

The General would meet them in the Armoury  with their orders. As the lowest ranking initiate, it was Vers' duty to prepare not only her own belongings, but the General’s as well;  she really needed to get to it. 

They were almost  completely ready when the General joined them an hour later. 

He informed them of what had transpired. They would be travelling directly to the suspected final destination of the shipments and intercept the recipients in the aim to further track and locate Talos, or the lost druid tribe. 

When they assembled, they had gathered around the Holy Flame that burnt in the centre of the armoury. It was in this flame that their weapons were blessed. It was from this flame that Vers had received her powers. It was customary that a prayer was said over the flame to bless them on their journey. As warriors they must always be prepared to meet a warrior’s death where they may not return.

The team stood around the flame, heads bowed and eyes closed waiting for the General to speak. 

“Dear Lord, you who guards us and shows us the way. Be with us now in  the battle that may come. We, the Astrabellators, are the sworn enemy of every witch and every devil, and forever your humble and faithful servants. Our eyes are your eyes by when we see the suffering brought upon the good people of this land, our hands are your hands when they reach to help those in need, and our swords are your sword as we strike down your enemies in the name of heaven and all that is good. Bless us Lord, on our journey forward. May your courage now guide us, let faith provide.”

“Amen” they all prayed and signed the cross in unison.

“Now, we have a flight to catch.”


	2. Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trap is set

Darkness had set in by the time they reached their destination, but it was just as well. Their mission, however important, required discretion and at this hour most employees at the harbor had finished their work shifts.

At the entrance, Yon presented a faked law enforcement id that would grant them entrance. Regardless  of what part of the world they operated in, it was important to be able to fit in and not cause a stir. Their job was to protect innocents from the danger lurking in the shadows, to carry the burden of knowledge so that the rest could live in peace. 

The iron barred gates opened and their unmarked minibus was allowed through. On the other side, Yon re-entered the vehicle.

“Section 5B,” he said to Minerva, who was driving.

“What does the shipment manifest say?” Vers asked.

“The gatekeeper doesn’t have the manifests, twinklefists,” Minerva muttered and  switched to a higher gear. Vers didn’t see her face but imagined she was rolling her eyes. She resisted  the urge to stick her tongue  out ; it would have been as inefficient as inappropriate.

Yon turned to look at her. “Be ready for anything, team. Vers; it’s your turn.”

She nodded, pushing away all momentary distractions. The minibus stopped and they stepped out, cautiously looking up and down the endless rows of  shipping containers stacked on top of each other. Floodlights perch ed high above  them created a sharp contrast between the places lit and those in darkness, the asphalt  wet and shining  from a veil of raindrops.

The feeling began as they neared the section marker. The slight tingle on her skin. The fluttering, pulling feeling in her gut.  _ Magic  _ was near.

“It’s something strong,” she whispered. Yon listened attentively. She sometimes found it hard to focus with him staring so intently at her, but this time the magic’s pull was so  fierce she had no such trouble. “This way.”

The path wound between two towering  rows of containers , the light not reaching the ground. The team formed a protective circle around her and Yon, readying their weapons. Att-lass and Minerva had crossbows, Bron-char and Yon-rogg had swords. Vers had the divine fire. 

Vers splayed her fingers as she walked, the tingling in her  hands so strong it became almost unbearable.  Then it stopped . She looked around, confused, extending her hands in every direction to find the feeling again. 

Yon looked at her questioningly. 

“I lost it,” she  swore softly , “It’s never happened before…”

He nodded towards the path they came from. “It has to be in one of those containers. Let’s go back and check each one.” 

Yon strode ahead but  Vers hesitated. If she couldn’t find the magic trace again their mission had reached a dead end.  She would have failed them. Sucking in a deep breath she was about to follow anyway, about to try her best, when  something moved in the corner of her eye.

There , in the deep  shadows down the path, was a woman dressed in a plain, gray tunic. Vers  gasped . Dark skin. Kind eyes. The woman smiled and  turned away, her figure faint and flickering.  Like a TV tuned to the wrong channel.

“Vers?” Yon  had stopped,  turning with a frown,  “What are you looking at?”

They were staring back in confusion, eyes fixed on her even as the strange woman moved through the shadows beyond them. Growing more and more distant by the second.

“I can feel  something ,” the lie almost wasn’t a lie. She saw  what they couldn’t; that had to mean something.

Yon looked apprehensive, but nodded. “Lead on then.”

She  struggled not to run.  _ Know your enemy; it could be you. _ Her heart thrummed  inside her chest. She couldn’t see the woman from her dream anymore but  somehow she  knew that she would find her again, if she only pressed on a little further.

“Slow down Vers,” Yon commanded  from behind her, somehow she’d slipped ahead without realising. The length of a half dozen shipping containers sat between them now. 

Vers hesitated, feet slowing on instinct when the  woman appeared again.  So close she could see her features clearly, the kind eyes, the welcoming smile.  The glow that emanated from her core a light against the dark backdrop. She took another step forward.

The last thing she heard was Yon shouting a warning. Then she fell. 

It felt as if she’d stepped into a bottomless pit. Lights of every color swirled behind her eyelids as she screwed them shut against the crushing sensation that enveloped every part of her body. 

_ This is it,  _ she thought distantly.  _ They’ve killed me. I failed him. _

Suddenly she was somewhere else. Thrown into her nightmares.  The dark, hooded figure approaching. The glint of metal. A woman bent double as a knife plunged into her gut. 

Vers screamed.  The word unfamiliar in her mouth but absolute. 

_ Mother _ . 

Smoke clawed at her lungs as  she retreated, sobbing and wavering, into the house. Looking for someone else. A lattice wall stopped her,  the wood cold and unforgiving against her palms. She was in the confession booth. 

_ “Tell me your sins my child” _ , the Supreme said,  their voice a hollow boom. Echoing over and over until it was all she could hear. 

Vers shook her head violently, backing out only to find the door  locked behind her, sturdy against her back as the lattice screeched open. Her heart hammered in her throat, eyes shutting instinctively.  No one could look at the Supreme. Not even her, God’s own chosen.

Her body hit the ground with a force that knocked the air  from her lungs.  Head reeling she fought to push herself upright and failed, arms weak and aching as  unrelenting hands pressed her face down into wet grass. 

Someone had hold of her neck, her arm twisted painfully behind her and a knee planted square in her back, making it impossible for her to move. She tried anyway, feet scrabbling uselessly at the grass for purchase and finding none.

She could hear footsteps through the blood pounding in her ears and then suddenly there was someone else, new hands hauling at her. Forcing her arms behind her back and securing them with the familiar plastic zip of a cable tie. 

The pressure against her back and neck disappeared. She tried to catch her breath, to steady herself as she had been trained to. To remain dignified in the face of the enemy. 

“Talos!” a woman whispered  almost angrily, “Release her.”

Vers arched her back to find the source of the voice. The darkness was a little less dense to her now, her eyes  adjusting .  She catalogued it like she’d been trained too, like  _ Yon _ would. Biting her tongue against her failures as she forced herself to take in everything she could. Flat ground, slender trees, people. No, not people,  _ witches.  _ Three of them. The air around them heavy with the afterglow of powerful magic. 

A teleportation spell was no small feat. 

Her head finally stopped spinning. In a fluid movement, she pulled up a knee to her side and swiftly stood up. 

“ _ Talos _ ,” she spat  the name like venom .  She knew it all too well, he was their enemy. 

A bright light shone into her face and  she was blind again, only able to make out the sauntering form of its wilder.  She recoiled on instinct.

“Come now,” a man’s voice,  _ his  _ voice. It was surprisingly gentle. Another witch trick . "We just wanna talk.”

Vers looked away from the light,  fighting to marshall her breathing,  “You have an odd way of conversing, witch.”

He laughed. A breathy, joyless sound. 

The brief distraction was all she needed. She lunged forward,  foot landing hard in his solar plexus as she slammed her head into his nose. He struck back, her neck cracking as his fist met her jaw, dropping her to the ground again. The grass was cold and wet against her aching cheek, head spinning as she  sucked at the wound in her mouth, afraid of leaving her blood for them to use.

The flashlight had fallen in the chaos, shining upwards into the face of the witch looking down at her, casting an eerie light from below. He was unmistakably a shapeshifter, their signature facial tattoos giving it away in an instant. 

This was the face of Talos. 

Wiping the blood from his nose he looked at her contemplatively , “Seems my precautions were quite prudent, after all. The little hunter bites.” 

Someone pushed past him, kneeling at her side. Dark skin. Kind eyes.  _ Familiar  _ eyes.

“Carol,” the woman said urgently,  hands fluttering over her. Never quite touching as she searched Vers’ face with her gaze, “Her name is Carol. She just doesn’t remember.”

The third figure stepped forward. A man with dark skin like the woman, looking at her with mild interest.

“You sure about this, Maria?” he sounded skeptical, “It’s been a long time, could it really be her?”

Maria nodded, her eyes fixed on Vers’s.

“It is her.” She smiled tightly. “It’s definitely her.”

Words failed her. This woman,  _ Maria,  _ was  the figure from her dreams. The key to her past. And she was here with Talos. The  _ enemy _ . 

Her mind reeled, it was a trick. It had to be.  Shapeshifters had to see the one they changed into, maybe the real Maria was their captive and they used her likeness to lure her into cooperation?  The thought made her blood boil, anger sparking in her fingertips like embers from a flame. She sucked in a heavy breath, she couldn’t let her emotions control her.

She’d been taught better than that. 

She had to keep her own council, mouth fixed shut as they dragged her to her feet again,  leading her through the young forest.  There were no paved roads, just dirt tracks and breaks in the brush around her, she memorised them anyway. Eyes flickering left and right as she committed each detail of the landscape to memory. 

_ Always know your terrain,  _ Yon’s voice whispered in her head, a memory of a memory,  _ and have an escape route. _

The path ended in a small farm, it’s windows dark and silent. Vers took note of every detail  as she struggled to place herself in the world. There was a battered four by four parked sloppily by the front of the farmhouse, the mud-splattered bumper bearing a Canadian license plate.

The  breeze was cool but not  frigid, scattering dead leaves across the grass . Early autumn,  the same continent then perhaps just further north. It fitted. She looked heavenwards for confirmation but it was overcast, there’d be no stars to help her tonight, no handy light pollution to earmark a city or town nearby. 

She was alone out here.

Maria had taken the lead, walking them towards the door. Talos appointing himself _coven_ _protector_ it seemed, holding her arm in a brusque grip. Whenever she stalled he pushed her forward. 

“Why the rush?” she taunted him  as he shoved her again, “I thought you wanted to  _ talk _ .”

He only grunted.

She continued, enjoying what little power she had, “Some way to pick up a date. That spell must have cost you dearly. What did you sacrifice this time,  _ witch _ ?”

“Don’t pretend to understand us,  _ murderer _ ,” he muttered under his breath.

“… a goat? A stag?” She lowered her voice  co-conspiratorially ,“A human life?”

He jabbed her forward, releasing her from his grip so suddenly she almost stumbled onto the steps of the farmhouse.

“Talos,” Maria warned. 

Talos paid her no notice, looking at Vers in  open disgust .  A mirror of every time she’d looked into the eyes of a witch, with contempt distorting her face.

“I’d kill you without consideration,” Talos growled low, gritting his teeth. “For all the death you’ve brought upon our kind to feed that...  _ abomination _ .”  Vers shot him a look, confusion furrowing her brow, “The  _ ‘Supreme’ _ ,” he  clarified sarcastically.

Maria, if that was actually her, laid a hand on Vers’s arm. 

“Forgive him,” she said kindly. “Come inside. You,” she shot Talos a dark look, “are concerningly amber. Stay outside until you’re yourself again.”

Vers cocked her head in a victorious gesture before she turned and followed Maria and the other man into the house. Talos curled his lip at her, but he remained on the porch, lighting a cigarette. 

The house had not been used for some time. The walls were covered in flaking paint and long bleached wallpaper, the air moist and reeking of rotted wood. The unnamed man lit the kerosene lamp hanging by the door as light, quick footsteps descended down the staircase to their left. 

A girl appeared in the hallway.  She looked to be eleven, maybe twelve, with dark skin and kind beetle black eyes lit with barely restrained  excitement. 

“Auntie Carol!” she beamed, breathless.

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, hurling her backwards into her own head as she was flooded with memories of another life. The sound of a child squealing with joy, the familiar weight of her in her arms as she hoisted her high in the air. The night sky open above them, a small, warm body curled into her side as she pointed out the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt. That soft voice sleepily whispering ‘I love you’ as Vers tucked her in at night.

She couldn’t breathe through it, couldn’t think, throat tight with feelings as she was plunged like ice water into the memories. Into a feeling of  _ home  _ so strong it nearly swept her knees out from underneath her.

“Carol… doesn’t remember, sweet ie , not yet.”  Maria reached for the girl, fingers stroking her cheek even as she watched Vers warily from the corner of her eye,  “Now go back to sleep.” The child pouted  but Maria held firm, “go on! Back to bed.”

After a final look at Vers, the girl gave up and followed her mother’s orders, disappearing as suddenly as she came and leaving an empty space in Vers’ chest she couldn’t put a name too.

Maria’s eyes  swept over her as she stood stock still and silent where they’d left her in the middle of the room. 

“Fury,”  she nodded to the man behind them , “take off her medallion. I can’t see her properly with it.”

_ What?  _ She didn’t understand. Couldn’t. Head too full of everything else as she stumbled away from the man, from  _ Fury,  _ on instinct as he reached for her. Talos was still outside. Danger. She was in danger. She…

The backs of her knees hit a chair, toppling her into it even as she tried to fight through the panic. Through the sing song voice of the child still in her head, through the pain and heartache and  _ hope  _ in Maria’s eyes. 

It was a trick. Witches were… they were...

“Who are you?” she demanded  as fear choked her, eyes darting back and forth between them. 

Talos’s voice echoed from beyond the door, provocatively casual  in the chaos , “Need a hand?”

Maria’s eyes were almost painful to look at, her forehead scrunched as she approached her slowly, “You really don’t remember anything – anything at all?”

“What am I supposed to remember exactly?” Vers replied  warily, forcing herself up from the creaking chair. Trying to feel her way towards an exit even as her eyes never left the approaching witch.

“I thought if we met then maybe your memories would resurface…” Maria reached  slowly towards her, palms open, like she might approach a feral cat, “they’ve done quite a number on you haven’t they…”

Vers back hit the wall, her throat working hard as she found herself cornered by them. Yon’s disapproval echoed in her head along with the inescapable sound of childish laughter. The little girl's voice. Maria’s eyes.

“What do you want?”  she demanded,voice too high in her own ears as she stared at Maria,  “Why do I recognize you?”

Talos and Fury were behind the woman now, their shadows swallowing what little light the lamp provided. Maria snapped her fingers impatiently, candles lighting around them at the gesture with a flare of magic. Vers winced.

“ Listen to me Carol, you are my sister in all but blood,”  Maria said, the words direct but strained. Like they cost her a great deal more than she was willing to show,  “a witch like us. Your family was murdered when you were a child, by the one you call the  _ Supreme _ .  You came to  live with my coven after that  until… until six years ago. We were attacked by the hunters. They burned our village to the ground,”  Maria shuddered, eyes shining in the flickering candle light as she added softly,  “We thought you were dead.” 

Heart thudding in her throat Vers felt the pinch of her plastic bindings as her wrists dug into her back, trying to focus herself on breaking the cable ties with renewed vigour even as her mind rebelled and her stomach rolled. The words were lies, they had to be, but she couldn’t seem to escape them anyway. They dug into her like fingernails, tugging at something deep inside of her even as she tried to block them out. 

“Then I saw a recording of you, Carol,” Maria didn’t stop,  voice growing stronger with every word as the panic threatened to overwhelm Vers completely,  “Attacking our own.  _ Killing _ for the Supreme.” 

There was heartbreak in her eyes, Vers couldn’t look. She couldn’t. It was a coincidence. It  _ had  _ to be. It couldn’t be. 

Six years.

Six years since she’d  awoken in the abbey with no memory,  no past. Just the dreams, the burning smoke.  _ Maria _ .

But no.  _ No.  _ She wasn’t a witch. It was impossible.

“I am not like you”, she hissed, “no matter who I was before; witches are… witches are  _ evil _ .”

Witches were evil and she was good. She was a beacon of freedom, a chosen one. She was an Astrabellator. 

Talos leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking bemusedly at Vers but speaking to Maria. 

“‘Told you there was no other way, didn’t I? The sigil is too strong.” He pulled a  curved knife from a sheath at his side, testing its edge against his thumb.

Seeing the plan in Talos’s eyes Vers shuddered, pulling harder at her restraints as she fought for clarity. What was it Yon had always told her? Get the upper hand even if it meant being underhanded? 

That the means justified the end?

“Wait! Wait. I do remember. Some things at least-”  She pretended they were lies but they felt like the truth, ash in her mouth as she looked to Maria with feigned wide eyes even as her hands worked behind her back,  “I… I’ve had a nightmare. About the attack. I see you in it, being dragged away. And I remember the girl. What is her name?”

_ Disarm them,  _ Yon’s voice whispered,  _ lure them into a false sense of security and then strike. _

_ Tell me another story, auntie Carol,  _ the child’s voice echoed,  _ the one about the witch princess with the glowing hands... _

“Monica,” Maria whispered, tentative hopefulness on her face. “You remember the attack?”

Vers nodded, hoping she  seemed cooperative enough  as she worked the cable tie between her belt and the wood panelling. Looking for a nail or an edge or anything even as she prayed Maria would order Talos away again.

“ What did you mean by ‘looking amber?” She asked,  knowing it would be best to keep her talking. 

Maria was the weak link but it was Fury that answered, taking a  step forward, “Maria is clairvoyant. Amber is...”

“ _ Vengeful _ ,” Talos finished for him.

“What are you?”  Vers let her eyes flicker to Fury, sizing him up again. Eager  to know anything that could help her.  Anything to drag this out until someone could find her.

Until  _ Yon  _ could find her. 

He’d clear this all up in a heartbeat, she knew it, save the day and bring her back to reality. Back beyond this world of  _ confusion. _

“Mortem,” Fury stated coolly.  A death witch.  Those who could curse firearms, and shoot lightning from their fingertips.  She should be more scared but as it was she felt as if she’d reached peak fear. 

Death didn’t frighten her as much as this feeling did, this pounding uncertainty. The shaky, breathless sensation that at any moment someone might pull the floor from beneath her and send her spiralling into the unknown. 

“There is a ritual, a spell.” Maria  broached the subject slowly, eyes shifting between them,  “that can break the sigil the Supreme has put on you.”

Cold sweat beaded on her brow, congealing against her skin at the subtle flicker of magic in the room.  Yon had warned her, over and over again, of what could happen if she was captured. That a witch could erase her memory, take away her identity and make her their thrall.

Her eyes darted to the knife in Talos’s hands.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” she said shakily,  the last threads of her bravado breaking inside of her.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Maria sighed, breaking eye contact with a mournful sigh as she nodded to the men, “do it.”

They were on her in an instant, a scream caught in her throat as they hauled her into the centre of the room. Into a circle she hadn’t seen before, the pale chalk lost in the dim light until a dozen more candles came to life around them. 

“No!” she cried, struggling  desperately against her captors  as the fear threatened to choke her completely,  “No, no no...”

_ “What are you doing?” _

They froze at the voice, turning as one towards its source. Vers swallowed against the bitter taste of adrenaline. Heart beating so hard it hurt.

Monica stood at the bottom of the stairs again.

“Go to bed, Monica,” Maria commanded, avoiding her daughter’s glare.

Vers didn’t follow suit, meeting Monica’s gaze full on instead. Her eyes were so steady, so  _ understanding,  _ a solid point in the chaos. Something to cling onto as Vers realised this child might well be the last thing she ever saw.

Part of her was almost grateful for it, part of her wanted to beg the child to run. Witch-child or not, she shouldn’t have to bear witness to what happened next. 

“She doesn’t want to do the spell,”  Monica said, ignoring her mother’s words. Her eyes never leaving Vers’. “You always tell me it’s wrong to force someone.”

“She doesn’t remember who she is, Monica,”  Maria gestured impatiently to the stairs,  “this is the only way to get her memories back.”

“I know,”  The child rolled her eyes, an expression so achingly familiar it made something between her ribs twinge, “ you left your notes for the ritual on the table.”

“And you read them?” Maria’s eyebrows shot up but Monica remained un-phased.

“Of course I did,”  she crossed her thin arms over her chest, her fierce defiance at odds with the shabby, too-large t-shirt she wore, “and I still know this is wrong.”

“ _ Monica-”  _ Maria started but her words were lost to Vers. She couldn’t make sense of them as she stared dumbfounded at the girl.

This child, this  _ witchling,  _ defied everything she’d ever learned about their kind. Witches were brutal and unscrupulous. Ruled by primitive instincts from birth. 

Her voice shook but her gaze was steady as she looked at the girl, “What… what will they do to me?”

“ _ Monica-” _ Maria tried to silence the girl before she could speak but Monica shook her head,

“She deserves to know!” She said, unfolding her arms and she met Ver’s gaze straight on, her head held high even as she trembled,  “They… they’ll take some of your blood, just a little, and pour it in a bowl with  something from your childhood. Your necklace I guess, the one you got from your mom. You left it with us when… anyway. After that mom will draw the marks of unbinding on your skin and  _ wham _ ! Sigil gone.” 

“Unbinding?” Vers echoed.

“Yeah, it’s not a very complicated ritual. It looks like a simple hold-breaking spell to me, but still,” Monica’s gaze shot to the other witches in the room. Unbelievably sharp for someone so young, “if you  _ don’t  _ want to do it, you shouldn’t  _ have _ to.”

She knew that look. She knew this girl. The way she spoke, the candor and cadence of her voice. She knew that if she hugged her she’d smell like vanilla and crayons and the coconut oil her mom used in her hair.

Vers  sank to her knees,  hollowed out and afraid of something far worse than pain or magic or death. She was afraid of herself, of the flitting, fractured memories swimming to the surface with every passing minute. 

She was afraid of the truth. 

That this wasn’t just a coincidence. The nightmares. The Supreme. The amnesia. 

_ Yon _ .

That hurt most of all, the idea that he’d lied to her twisting upside her gut. A knee-jerk denial dying on her tongue as she met Monica’s steady gaze.

She had to know. One way or another. She had to know.

Squeezing her eyes shut Vers bowed her head, nodding once at her captors.

_ “Do it.”  _

No one had to hold her this time,  Vers knelt willingly in the circle. Her gaze fixed on the floor even as she felt the weight of magic growing around her. Prickling over her skin as she tried not to flinch away from it. It was all she had been told was bad and wrong but she stayed anyway.

Monica hadn’t been sent away again this time, instead she sat just outside the circle’s edge. An unexpected point of comfort. 

Maria approached Vers cautiously, “I’m going to remove the bonds now. I need you to strip down to your underwear, understand?” 

Vers looked at the two men  almost unseeingly , they seemed unbothered, but stepped out of the circle anyway.

Maria cut the bonds and Vers sighed with relief.  This was when she should act, strike,  _ fight.  _ Instead she lifted trembling hands and removed her star, tossing it outside of the circle.  Free if it she felt something awakening inside her, a deep, powerful churning that longed to breach through the surface. 

Maria looked over her and smiled. 

“What is it?” Vers asked.

“You’re white.”

“What does that mean?” She bent down to untie her boots,  it felt like she’d put them on in another life. The rectory a hazy memory as she tugged at the laces. 

“Acceptance. Determination.” Maria said softly. “And a little blue. Fear.”

“A  _ little _ ?” Vers’s head shot up, amazed at how familiar it all felt to her even though she had no memory of doing this before,  “I’m scared out of my mind!” 

She undid her kevlar vest and pulled off her pants, her jacket and shirt following until she stood in only her basics and a singlet. Both white. The color of purity.

She should have been ashamed of her immodesty, of appearing undressed in front of strangers.  _ Men.  _ But she wasn’t. She didn’t have any room left in her for that now. 

Maria held out a small knife, “ it’s better if you draw it yourself.”

Vers nodded clumsily, baffled at the trust she was being shown as she watched Maria life a small ceramic bowl from the floor.

“Your forearm, near your elbow,” she gestured when Vers hesitates. “I’ll  heal the wound after, no scars.”

Swallowing tightly Vers nodded again, drawing the razor sharp edge against her skin before she could think better of it. Blood beaded against her skin, stark red as she turned her arm quickly to let it gather in the offered bowl. 

Balancing the bowl in one hand Maria drew a necklace from her pocket with the other. A string of perfectly round green glass beads that glinted in the candle light. Vers knew somehow that the clasp would stick on it, and that there’d be a chip in the bead second in from the left even though she couldn’t see it.

Maria placed it in the bowl.

“That’s enough,” she said, pushing two fingers to the wound and  whispering something under her breath . The wound closed instantaneously. “Is everyone ready to start?”

Talos and Fury moved to stand on either side of the circle, hands raised in front of themselves as if bracing for something.

“Their job is to contain the spell. The Supreme’s sigil will fight us, fight the circle.”

“I thought- I thought this was a simple ritual?” Vers asked, mouth dry as static rose in the air.

“The ritual is,” Maria set her jaw grimly, “but the Supreme’s power isn’t. We aren’t strong enough to break it, so instead my spell will transfer the sigil from you to this.” Maria indicated the bowl, the green beads shining red with blood now. Part of her felt sad to see it like that but she didn’t know why.

Without further prompting Talos and Fury began gesturing,  their fingers flexing and dancin g as they drew invisible glyphs in the air. Vers gasped, the circle was glowing.  A dim golden light that grew brighter by the second. 

“It’s supposed to do that,” Maria calmed her, dipping her her index finger into the bowl and moving her hand to Vers’s, “ I’ll start on your hands and work from there, the last sign will be above your heart.”

The blood left cooling, glistening traces as Maria drew one glyph after another on her skin. With each one, she felt something clench and stir  within her.  A moving, pulsing awareness that shifted from  her arms to her calves, thighs, hips, belly.  Following each new glyph as it was drawn until it was chasing along the row of signs painted along her spine. 

Vers’s  breathing grew heavier, teeth sunk deep into the inside of her cheek as she fought to remain still.

“Does it hurt?” Maria  asked, voice hushed with concern.

“Not yet,” Vers huffed. 

It was a lie. It hurt. It burned and clawed inside her,  growing and twisting like a vine beneath her skin. All sharp thorns and razor edges. 

“Fight it,” Maria  met her gaze, chin set firm as she nodded encouragingly,  “Fight it with us.”

Vers didn’t fully understand what she meant but she tried anyway. Focusing her attention on the girl, on  _ Monica _ , a steady point beyond the boundary of the circle. She was hugging her knees tight to her chest as she watched with wide eyes. 

_ Remember.  _ Vers willed herself,  _ remember her.  _ She pulled at the memories, willing them to surface. To see them more clearly. The faces. The details.

“Maria,” Fury’s voice sounded strained, “ _ hurry _ .”

Without realizing, Vers had closed her eyes. When she willed them open again, she and Maria stood in a circle of purple fire. Maria’s hand was hovering above her heart.  Their eyes met and Vers nodded, somehow knowing this was it. The final hurdle. The threshold she couldn’t go back from.  Fingers touched her skin, painting a slow circle before slashing through it with a sharp line. 

Her body exploded.

It was an agony so pure she felt her spine crack against it, convinced her skin had ripped itself from her body only to be replaced by sandpaper. By a thousand stinging bees that burrowed deep within her flesh and stung at every unseen part of her.

She wanted to die. To unmake herself. To sink into the black and never return.

Then it was over.

She fell to her hands and knees, sagging weakly  against the floor as the fire receded.  Replaced by the cool touch of Maria’s hands. 

“Carol?” she shook her gently, “Talk to me.” 

Carol tried to focus on her voice,  memories flooding her, felling her all over again as she struggled to piece herself back together. 

Carol sobbed.  A broken, strangled sound like a wounded child as she curled into the offered embrace. 

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” She hiccuped,  clutching onto Maria like a lifeline against the torrent of her past washing over her. 

“It’s not your fault.” Maria whispered,  squeezing her tighter still.  Somehow that made Carol weep even harder. 

“He lied to me.”  She mumbled through the tears, “ Everything… everything I knew was a lie.”

She despised herself. She should have been crying over the innocent lives she had taken, the witches she’d helped track down. She’d helped _murder_. But all she could think about was Yon.

Yon who had lied to her. 

Lied and used and  _ manipulated _ and… 

A new fire burned inside her. She knew its color. It was amber.


	3. Rituals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: use of blood in the chapter.

Vers was curled up on the couch, clutching a mug of tea which Maria had made for her, absentmindedly stroking Monica’s hair, who snoozed quietly on the cushion next to her. Once given the all clear by her mother, Monica had clung to Carol like a mollusc. At first it was a little overwhelming, but the girl soothed her; with a sense of home and belonging.

Carol was struggling to come to terms with everything; especially who she had been compared to who she had become. All of which was tainted with the undercurrent of betrayal; betrayal by Yon and betrayal by the Supreme.

Fury was helping Maria clean the remainder of the circle from the floorboards, whilst Talos stood next to the fireplace, keeping an ever watchful eye on her, whilst she stared at the fire.

“What was in the catacombs?” she asked absently, reaching for something to keep her mind of the million things rolling around in her thoughts.

“Nothin'… needed a way to get your attention. Nothing beats a good tomb raiding to upset your precious witch hunter friends. They hate it when we steal back what's rightfully ours.” _So it was all a trap._

She laughed a short mirthless laugh, “We were supposed to be setting a trap for you.”

“I know.” His voice carried a condescending lilt to it.

“Why risk so much just to capture me?” _Save me_ , she amended internally.

Talos eyed her with suspicion, as he cleaned between his teeth with his tongue. With a smacking sound he decided to answer her “Mama bear clairvoyant over there thinks you’re the only one with the power to help us. I think you’re a liability with loyalty issues, little _hunter_.”

She had been kidnapped and brainwashed, and he thought she could possibly still be loyal to them? She gripped her mug tighter as her anger spiked, she saw red at his insinuation. The fire behind Talos flared, shocking both of them, Talos jumped away so not to be scorched by the flames.

“ _Talos!_ ” admonished Maria from the other side of the room. She crossed to them and placed a calming hand on Carol's shoulder. “Don’t upset her, her powers are still settling after being blocked for so long.”

“You didn’t tell me she was a fire witch! How the hell is a fire witch supposed to help me?” Talos growled and advanced on Maria getting into her space.

“She’s not” Maria bit off. 

She looked like she was about to continue but Talos was faster, gesturing angrily towards the fireplace. “Then what the hell was _that_?”

“Calm down,” Maria deadpanned.

Talos shook his head and smiled but it looked like a snarl. “I am perfectly calm. And I get it: You were childhood friends. Adorable.” His voice crackled with pent up frustration. What wasn’t Maria telling her?

Carol cleared her throat. “I'm right here you know?” 

Both looked at her, breaking the building tension. It had been a long night for all of them, they were all tired and drained. 

She looked at the mug in her hands, absently tipping the remaining tea back and forth. “I know you don’t trust me. If I were you, I probably wouldn’t either.” She lifted her gaze. All three witches in the room listened intently. Her voice grew stronger. ”I trusted you to perform that spell despite _every_ instinct I had screaming otherwise. Doesn’t that gain me a small amount of trust?” 

She turned to Talos specifically. “I can’t apologise enough for what I have done; but I _literally_ didn’t know any better. I know my hands are covered in blood, innocent blood, and nothing I can do will ever change that, nor make it right. All I can do is try and help to stop more blood from being spilt by the Astrabel… the witch hunters." She tried to fight back tears, she didn't have it in her for more crying. The thought of what she had done, what she had been manipulated into doing, made her sick.

Talos stared her down, as if deciding if her plea was genuine.

Fury took the opportunity to weigh in, “Even if you don’t trust her enough to let her help, she knows more about their operations than we do. She’s a valuable asset, and we need all the friends we can get.”

Talos squinted his eyes at Fury, clearly not happy that the man was correct.

“Even if I did agree to let her help, how is a fire witch supposed to be of any _use_? They’re a dime a dozen, why exactly did I sacrifice good men to those vultures if I could have picked one up off the street?” he asked the other rhetorically, then turned his attention to Maria. He pointed a finger at her face. “You said her gifts were unique, that she was the only one who could do what we needed!” 

“She’s a celestial!” Maria exclaimed. The others looked confounded. This was not something common then. "She’s unlimited in what kind of magic she can use. Or detect." 

Carol watched the two men digest what they were hearing.

“So that’s how you could track us down so well,” Talos said bitterly, now eyeing her with even more suspicion. His eyes darted to Maria, now subject to his irritation. “Was that really so hard? How long have you known that a friggin’ _celestial_ was sniffing down our trail for the hunters?”

“I didn’t!” Maria protested but then her voice lost a little of its power. “At least not for certain. When she was taken six years ago… No one knew then except Marvell, I think. To the rest of us, celestials were just a myth back then.” Maria’s tone sharpened again. “None of us knows exactly what she is capable of. Which is why I don’t want you upsetting her and having a sinkhole open up and swallow us accidentally, or worse!”

Carol swallowed. A memory surfaced. Mar-vell, the guardian of her coven, telling her that her gift was ‘meant to end wars, not fight them’. She wondered what made Talos so upset; what he needed help with, and what he was so afraid of. His fear clearly didn’t apply to himself. Recklessness born out of frustration rolled off him in waves.

Talos turned to throw some more wood on the fire, Maria stayed by Carol in solidarity and protection.

“You need me to track something don’t you?” Carol asked him. He visibly stopped short and stared at her.

“Yes…” he reluctantly replied. She figured he didn't expect her to guess from the vague references to 'help' they had made. Whatever it was that he needed help with, he was clearly reluctant to share.

“The lost druid tribe… you need me to find them.” She was slowly adding the pieces together, sifting through what she had observed, with what she had known as both Vers and Carol.

Talos only growled in response, instantly defensive thus confirming her theory. “What do you know of them?”

“Nothing, just rumours. We… _they_ never could get enough intel to get a clear picture. Any leads we had would eventually just evaporate. They suspected it might be somewhere in Canada, but no clue where precisely. That was only a guess based on the fact every trail pointed to the same conclusion before they went cold, like a black hole. I didn’t think it actually existed; a ‘ _lost tribe’_ sounded more myth than fact.”

“They're not lost, they're hidden.” Monica added as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Their bickering had woken her up. 

“Hidden?” questioned Carol. It was a curious way to describe things.

Talos sighed and ran a hand over his face. The skin around his facial tattoos tugged in strange ways, distorting them. He scratched the stubble on his chin. It seemed that this was his story to tell. He leaned one arm against the mantle. The glow of the flames cast his face into strange shadows.

“We needed a home; all of us – druids, shifters, witches … This war has gone on for generations; too long, too many of us are dead. We can’t blend in amongst the humans like we used to. To survive we need to find a new place of sanctuary. Somewhere safe, where the hunters cannot find us. Where our children can grow without fear.” Carol’s eyes flicked to the little girl napping next to her.

He spoke to the fire as he told his story. “After years of planning and searching, we found the perfect place. We moved resources in, established homes, migrated communities, everything was working brilliantly.” Returning to the present, Talos turned his back to the fire, looking directly at Carol.

“We were in the phase of mass immigration; we had planned to move a number of communities in. Powerful wards were placed around the sanctuary. We needed to prevent the Supreme from ever finding it. The wards were designed to not only shield it from intruders and external magic, but also cloak it from the outside eye. ” 

Talos’s mood darkened, a low growl coming back to his voice. “The wards were activated early during the attack on Maria’s coven. For some unknown reason, Marvell, your coven’s guardian, activated them when your coven fell. You all were supposed to be the last large group to move in; we weren’t ready for the wards to go up. Those of us on the outside didn’t have access to any of the spells or tokens to unlock the sanctuary.”

Carol listened intently, it seemed that horrid night had destroyed more than just her own life. “Hang on, If you were part of finding it in the first place, surely you must know where it is?”

An excited Monica piped up, wanting to show off her knowledge and participate in what was happening. “A cool part of the cloaking spell means that anyone who knew where it was before forgot and they’ll keep forgetting every time they’re told. That’s why they needed the magical hall passes.” She seemed very proud of her intel.

Talos nodded, “Marvell knew this, so something must have gone terribly wrong that night, to make her do what she did. She would have known such an action would leave the rest of us stranded.” 

Maria and Carol looked at each other, they knew what had gone wrong: Carol had been taken. 

Carol felt a wave of guilt wash over her. These people had been forced to live in exile from their own kind because of her. Marvel had been powerful, and every knowledgeable in ancient magic, surely she could have helped Talos undo what had happened?

“What happened to Marvel? Why couldn't she help?” the look in Maria’s eyes told her the answer. Marvel was gone.

“She was killed that night. When I told her you had been hurt, she went looking for you, I don't know if she found you or not. Once Monica was safe, I went back. I watched one of the hunters cut her down mid spell. Possibly when she was activating the wards, I'm not sure. I fled after that - there was nothing I could do” Maria had gone quiet, the memory haunted her.

Fury added, “If that’s so, that would explain what’s preventing those on the inside from contacting us too."

Carol muttered. “Or maybe they were warned about doing so.” Because of _her_. 

Maria looked sympathetically at her. “The point is, I’m pretty sure you can locate it. Together with us.”

Carol furrowed her brow. Nothing she could remember seemed even remotely useful to solve their problem. “They're trapped in there, and we're stuck out here, with no way of finding it because we have no location and no link? I’m sorry to say, but I think our chances of finding it are hopeless to none, even with my abilities.” 

As a celestial witch she was connected to all types of magic. All magical creatures could sense magic, and the magic of others, but not like Carol. Her powers meant she could trace magic and, in theory, cast or break almost any spell. It was this gift the Astorbellators had exploited. They had taken her unique gift and turned her into a weapon, honed her ability and used her to track and kill her own kin.

She wondered if they had known, if _he_ had known what she was capable of when he took her. As Vers, she had only ever known and used a fraction of her powers. Before that, she was only beginning to explore what she was capable of; so much had been left to figure out.

Even with her natural ability to track magic, finding this sanctuary under these circumstances would be impossible. Without _something_ to link her to what she was looking for, she’d be blindly searching the world, looking for a needle in a haystack. They could spend the rest of their lives following every magical trail in the hopes it could lead to the sanctuary, and that’s assuming the wards even allowed her to track them.

“Not quite… you have us” Fury answered.

Carol was all for a sappy pep talk, but a ‘ _we’re in this together’_ attitude wasn’t going to solve their problem. She side eyed Fury hard.

“We each have family in there, blood family. Now we can’t trace them ourselves, but you sure as hell can. You have at least 3 links here...” Fury pointed between himself, Monica and Talos “5 if the two of you also happen to luck out and have family there. That’s more than enough for someone like you to trace them. As you just said, finding the sanctuary hasn’t worked, but finding people from the sanctuary, that just might.”

“That... could work.” it was a good idea, bypass the problem; locate the people not the place. Carol tried to remember through the cloud of conflicting memories the rituals she had learned years before. Her ability to track was as natural as breathing, but tracking by blood over such vast distances would require specific spells, spells she could not entirely remember.

“Can you do it? Because I'm as sure as hell not giving you my blood if you can't.” Talos asked, he was still resisting the idea of her helping, but she could hear the hope in his voice. 

“If we have everything we need, I can… assuming the wards dont block me as well. If not, then maybe we can trace down some of the old leads. They might get us closer, and my magic can then do the rest.” 

"I made sure I had everything, even some of Marvel's old books which have the spells we need. I've been prepping for this for a while now, so I can guide us through what we need to do." Maria reassuringly squeezed her shoulder, Carol nodded at Maria. Maybe they did have a chance,if anyone could get this done, it was Maria.

Talos let out a sigh, "Fuck it, I need a smoke!" he walked over to the table near the kitchen to collect his jacket before heading to the door.

The others took this as the chance to take action. The Astrabellators were still out there, so the sooner they did this, the less likely their trail would be followed.

While Fury and Maria were preparing the room for the ritual, Carol followed Talos outside. There was unfinished business between them, and her instincts told her it was important that things were settled before the ritual. The spell she would perform demanded focus; unity. She couldn’t have that with the two of them shooting daggers at one another.

Talos opened a pack of cigarettes and offered her one. She shook her head. He shrugged, pulled one up and lit it, sighing deeply as he exhaled the smoke, rubbing the sore place on his nose bone. 

“I’m sorry about the nose,” Carol offered.

“Don’t be,” Talos sighed. “I could have been nicer.”

She sensed they might have arrived at a truce, at last. “An understatement, but sure. You could ask Maria to heal it.”

Talos looked out into the night, dragging from his cigarette. She wasn't sure how to broach the subject. As if he could feel her intent, he jumped in before she could.

“You have to understand; I knew you only as the Supreme’s bloodhound. We never lost more people, at a faster rate, then after you...” He stopped talking, not because of the menacing flares around her hands or the rumbling beneath their feet, but because she was crying. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “This must be hard for you.”

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I don’t know how to… cope with it. The things I’ve done…” She closed her eyes, wishing she could stop the memories his words had awoken. Screams. Pleas. Eyes wide with fear. She had thought they were less than her then. Killers, each and every one of them. Now, what remained was the memory of countless murders.

A firm hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. Talos stood in front of her, eyes intent and seeking hers. He spoke with a hushed voice. “Listen. My hands are filthy too. Not all stories about me are fabrications.” He lowered his gaze and added mournfully, “As much as I wish they were.”

“I hope I’m able to find your family,” she sniffed. 

He smiled, his features softened, and suddenly he didn’t look dangerous at all to her. “I have faith in you, Carol Danvers.”

She returned his smile. “Thanks. That means a lot right now.” She leaned against the railing where he stood, breathing in the cool night air. She needed to centre herself, she had a task to complete, and becoming lost in the kaleidoscope of feelings she needed to sort through would not help any of them. She could cry and scream later, right now she needed to focus.

Leaving him to his cigarette in peace, Carol returned inside to talk to Maria. Carol was rusty with her magic, to say the least. Currently she had two different understandings of magic warring in her head, distorting her view on both. She didn't entirely trust herself at the moment, she was worried she’d make a mistake, that six years of bias could subconsciously cause her to falter or self sabotage.

Maria was always better during their studies; both the theoretical part when they were children, and the practical application when they had both come into their powers as young adults. Carol just had stronger and more natural talent, so she always felt she never needed to work nor study as hard. Right now she regretted her teenage self for her foolishness.

Maria was standing in the centre of the room, studying a book, whilst Fury and Monica unboxed items from a chest onto the kitchen table. Carol came and glanced over Maria’s shoulder, hoping something on the page might be familiar to her. Carol knew seeking spells were easy peasy, but she just couldn't remember the particulars of such a spell at that moment.

“Our biggest problem will be the wards.” Maria spoke quietly to Carol, “I don’t know enough about them to predict how they will affect the spell. They may just simply block us completely, or push back and knock you out cold the moment you start probing at them. Yet if anyone has got a chance at getting past them, it's you!” She turned her head to smile at Carol. Carol was warmed by Maria's belief in her. Something she didn't quite feel for herself at the moment.

"So what do we need to do?"

"I was thinking of a dual spell, part seeking spell, part portal.” Carol's eyes must have bulged a little at the idea, as Maria’s smile softened to something more reassuring: “Don’t worry, you don't have to do all the work and I’ll be with you every step of the way. If you amplify my magic, I can connect Talos, Fury, and Monica to their blood relatives, all at once. If I hold those links and act as a conduit, assuming my understanding of your powers are correct, you should be able to use the links to trace them. If you can get a trace, you could steer a portal to that location. You've always said your powers work more like a compass, right?"

“Yeah, that’s about right," Carol deadpanned.

“So why don't we turn you into a GPS?” Maria flipped the pages of the book she held, and pointed to a well worn page. "This is an old spell medieval covens would use to show them the way towards another family’s coven. It's designed to work across long distances, but it only worked in flashes, like a satellite snapshot with a compass direction, showing landmarks to the witch who cast it. They would need to repeat the spell along the journey to check if they were going the right way.”

Understanding dawned on Carol “But, I should only need to do it once; when I have the location, then I activate the portal and steer us there.”

“Exactly! You're also the only person who is strong enough to keep the spell active with whatever interference the wards would cause. I tried this out before, as has Fury, even combined we were never successful. Once, I was knocked out cold, when we tried it together, we forgot what we were doing half way through. Monica found us just staring at each other and thought we were stoned.”

“What? How does she even...?”

Maria shrugged. “Who knows with kids these days?! Anyway, what do you think? Doable?”

“Yeah, I guess…” It seemed like a solid plan, Carol had a few more questions, but she felt she could help pull it off. “Are you going to be able to make and hold three maybe four blood links for that long?” Carol knew Maria was more than capable, but she was concerned for her friend’s safety.

“I'm a clairvoyant remember? Connecting people is what I do.”

“Well I guess I need to read up on how to do a portal spell without a fixed destination.” Portals were intense magic, not easily done. Portal spells without a fixed destination were rare, but not impossible. 

“Gotch covered gurl!” Maria nodded to a large scroll on the table. “Astral plane portal.”

It took some more reading and briefing, but eventually Carol felt something close to ready. They walked outside. Dawn broke through the treeline, mist rose from the grass, forming rays of light that danced between them while they set everything in place. Birds chirped. It was all beautiful and quiet. Talos seemed especially soothed by it, the shapeshifter’s face was serene and peaceful.

Maria took a turn to collect blood from each one. When Talos rolled up his sleeve, Carol noticed for the first time that his tattoos covered not just his face, but the lines continued over the rest of his body as well. He commented on her surprise, “They aren’t regular tattoos. We use them to regulate the shift.”

Monica, ever eager to show off, cleverly added, “Without them, shifters can turn randomly into anything nearby. Like… imagine waking up as a housefly. Or a pigeon.”

Talos cleared his throat as Maria punctured his vein. “That’s… not exactly how it works. But fine. They’re there to help.” He smiled at the kid and Carol thought she might even begin to like the man.

When everyone had left their contribution to the bowl, Maria came to Carol with it, slowly stirring with her finger to prevent it from coagulating. Carol scrunched her eyes shut, fighting the disgust. “Are you _really_ certain there’s no better way than to smear my face and arms with it?”

Maria chuckled. “You’ll get over it eventually. This kind of blood is actually not the most powerful substance. But it’s more convenient.”

Carol gingerly opened an eye. “What is the most powerful then?”

Maria leaned in and winked at Carol.

“Tell me you’re joking?” Carol groaned as Maria drew a line from her hairline to the tip of her nose. Maria didn’t answer, just continued drawing lines from Carol’s heart to the tips of her index fingers. She thankfully didn’t need to be in her underwear this time. After Maria was done, she was allowed to put on her jacket again. 

This time, no circle was drawn since they were aiming for the opposite of containment. Maria drew blood signs on the foreheads and above the hearts on everyone to link them together. Fury made a series of hand signs and voiced a command and the remainder of the blood in the bowl instantly sizzled and burned away, leaving no trace for the hunters. Maria hoisted a rucksack to her back. Fury, Talos, Maria and Monica clasped hands and stood in a tight circle around Carol.

They were ready. 

Carol lifted her hands and drew the glyhps she had repeated endlessly with Maria over the last hour. Just as the others had told her, now that she was free of the sigil, magic looked different to her. The signs she drew emerged glowing in the air briefly, before dissolving and being replaced by the next and the next. Then, as sudden as she had been warned, the scene blacked out and she felt like her ears were blocked, all sounds muffled and distorted. Her own breaths sounded like a storm and her heartbeat felt like thunder.

Somewhere beyond the overwhelming sensation, she was surprised to hear Talos voice: _“Focus. You can do this.”_

Then Maria, _“Carol, this can feel pretty intense but it’s ok, remember? Open your eyes.”_

“I don’t think I can,” Carol panted as the pressure increased.

 _“Open your eyes,”_ Maria repeated steadily.

Carol opened her eyes. She was in a pine forest. Or, she was _floating_ in a pine forest. Then she was flung away, the forest dissolved and was replaced by the shifting landscape of the astral plane, but the pull was still there. She followed it, imagined pulling herself towards it along an invisible rope. But the same feeling appeared again; a sudden resistance, like an impenetrable bubble pushing her back. She concentrated harder, gritting her teeth, she could feel them creak inside her head. She fought against the sensation and bright painful heat speared through her as she had slammed up against the wards of the sanctuary. She couldn't get through. At least not this way. And she couldn't risk the other's lives; they were caught up in this spell with her. She wouldn't risk their safety by attempting to break through. The lightscape of the astral plane kept swirling around her, she was beginning to lose her sense of direction, she needed to get them back to reality. She retreated quickly before she was pushed back again and thrown off course. 

They landed on the cold damp ground with more force than expected. Carol was winded and felt nauseous. She tried to pull air into her lungs and looked at the sky. Dawn colored it prettily pink and blue. She looked around trying to find the others. Maria was checking over Monica, whilst Fury looked as miserable as Carol felt herself. Talos was already up and searching the area. She recognised the tactical precision of his actions. Scanning the environment around them for clues to their whereabouts, looking to see if they had been spotted. She stumbled to her feet, swaying against the dizzying sensation flooding through her. Controlling the portal spell had been intense, she felt exhausted but there was no time to rest. Hopefully she had landed them close enough to their destination. 

She closed her eyes, and reached out with her mind, sensing her surroundings. The magic felt different here; she could clearly sense the others with her, but everything else around them seemed fuzzy, like static on an old tv screen. The dissonance was unsettling.

She moved around the space where they had landed, gathering her bearings. Amongst the static was a silent hum, more like a pressure than a sound. She reached back, to moments before when she had latched onto the thread that had led them here. The link between her and the sanctuary. It pulled her in through the trees, towards the hum. 

"This way." She motioned for the others to follow. They walked through rows of trees, their feet crunching on the fallen pine needles. The rows of the trees were too uniform; a forestry plantation perhaps? This wasn't wilderness like she expected.

They continued walking for a while, she kept trying to sense the direction they needed to walk based on that thread, it continued to draw her towards the hum of silence. As their journey continued, the silence grew as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The pressure around pushed in on her, as if it wanted to force her back. It was growing uncomfortable. She looked at the others, they didn't seem as affected. They all looked tired as she felt. Monica had climbed onto Fury's back and snoozed on his shoulder. Even Talos, who by now had helped himself to yet another cigarette, looked wary.

The trees began to thin and the forest opened out onto a grassed clearing. It wasn't particularly large and the forest looked to continue on the other side. Something about the place struck her as wholly uninteresting, they should just keep walking as nothing about the place was worth noting. 

"We should keep moving, there's nothing here," growled Talos, his frustrations clearly building. She couldn't blame him. 

The others mumbled in agreement. Fleetingly Carol found this strange, the instant dismissal of the place. Something in the back of her head said that was wrong, but she had the overwhelming urge to agree with them.

They crossed towards the trees on the other side, Talos leading the charge. That little voice in her head kept whispering to her. _Something isn't as it seems_. She tried to ignore that it sounded a little like _him._ They had just crossed the treeline again when the feeling subsided suddenly. Vers' training kicked in. 

_Be careful of the threats you can’t see. Not everything is as it seems when dealing with magic._

_Witches are subversive deviants, they hide in the shadows, all they do is lie…_

_All our leads just seem to disappear into thin air…_

Carol stopped dead. "This is the place!" The others turned to look at her. Talos glared at her in disbelief. She felt sorry for him; how many times had he gotten this close only to be turned away by the very magic meant to keep his people safe? He opened his mouth to argue with her, but she cut him off.

“It’s in the clearing, it has to be!”

“No,” all three objected simultaneously. Vers stood firm and raised an eyebrow at them. Surely they understood that was not a natural reaction? Talos looked at the other two. “The wards…” he muttered and then practically sprinted past her back to the field. He looked manic, twisting and turning, looking around for some sign this was the place. The others followed slowly.

Carol stood at the edge of the clearing and reached out with her magic. The pressure was overwhelming again, pushing her back away from the place where Talos stood. She pushed against it and the searing light and heat from before lanced through her mind. 

This was indeed the place, she tapped into the thread she had been using to guide them. It anchored her in the centre of this place. They had made it.

Fury placed Monica gently on the ground against a tree. The girl was sound asleep. “If we spread out, we can form a search line. Keep moving forward until we hit the limit,” he suggested, his police background showing.

“How will we know it’s the limit?” asked Maria.

“My guess,” he theorized, “is when we’re overwhelmed with the urge to run in the opposite direction.” He looked to Carol for confirmation. She shrugged then nodded. She wasn’t sure exactly how this was going to work, but that was as good a guess as any.

“I’ll go calm the hot head, tell him we have a plan,” Fury said as he walked past them towards Talos. Maria took a blanket from her pack and wrapped it around her daughter. Carol placed her hand on Maria’s shoulder. She could see the tension there. 

“Are you ok?” she asked softly.

“Yeah… it’s been so long since we had family around… I want her to have more than just me, but it’s strange to think I’ll be sharing her soon.” She stroked her daughter's hair.

“I’m sure we can find ways to fill your time.” Carol joked. Maria chuckled at her.

“Ways you’ll no doubt make me regret.”

“Me? Never!” Carol feigned indignation at Maria’s insinuation.

The women smiled at each other. Carol had missed this, so had Maria. They hugged each other for a moment before heading over to Talos and Fury.

“The clearing isn't too big. If we space out about 10 feet from each other we should cover enough ground. We’ll either hit something or have a panic attack.”

“Great,” grumbled Talos. 

The group moved forward in a line. Stopping on occasion to work through the feelings the spells were forcing on them. Even Carol’s ability was muted by the static around her. It wasn't until Talos swore and then crumpled to the ground clutching his face did they truly stop.

Maria jogged over to him. 

“Fuck! I'm not going to have a nose left after this.” Talos brushed her off and stood. He reached his hand out and came into contact with a hard wall. It was completely invisible, but where his hand made contact, the air around his palm shivered.

“We found it,” he whispered reverently. 

Joy flooded all of them; they had found it, finally.

“Alright… well then let’s crack this safe. How do we do this?” Fury asked Carol. 

Maria said warily, “We just need to make a small opening long enough for us to get through. Anything bigger and we risk damaging the wards.”

“Or burning ourselves out,” Talos sighed and shook his head. “Marvell knew what she was doing.”

Carol stepped forward as a fit of inspiration hit her. “Gimme some space guys.”

“What are you thinking?” Maria asked.

“During the portal-thingy-spell, it _felt_ like I could break through. I just didn’t want to put the rest of you at risk.” She clapped her hands together and rubbed them like she was getting ready for workout. The three witches looked at each other and took a few careful steps back. 

Carol walked to the place where Talos had touched the wall and pressed her palm against it. She felt it ripple from her touch. She angled her hand so her fingertips were against the surface, and pressed forward. The wall bulged and struggled. A blinding light grew from the center of her hand and in a circle around her. She added her other hand, pushing them into the resistance, cleaving it around herself. Then she felt something snap like a fiber in a canvas breaking around the press of a sharp object, and everything around her relaxed and fluttered back into place.

The lightshow faded and nothing looked different. “Did it work?” asked Fury

Carol reached out with her powers. Where all she could feel before was static, she now felt a surge of power and life through an invisible opening in the wall in front of them. She pushed her powers into the gap like a wedge, forcing the space to stay open. Her skin glowed from the effort of the magic. She was about to tell them it worked, when a voice she both longed and dreaded to hear came suddenly from behind them.

“Fraternizing with the enemy I see?”

They turned suddenly to see her old team of hunters standing in the clearing behind them, Yon on point, clutching Monica to him.


	4. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Talos and Soren aren’t in an established relationship yet. 
> 
> Also, in this chapter are some cameo appearances from DenseHumboldt's [the Wraith](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048968).

“You lied to me.” At first sight of him, this was all she could think of. That and how desperately a part of her hoped it wasn’t true. That he too was misled. Anything to soften the impact of his betrayal against her.

But instead, he looked her over with cool disregard. “I made you a better version of yourself.”

Monica squirmed and struggled, seeking Carol’s eyes. She tried to calm the girl but didn't avert her eyes from Yon. “It’ll be ok Monica. You’re gonna be fine.” 

Maria cut in, “Let her go, or we’ll - “

Yon regarded the furious mother swiftly before his eyes once again locked on Carol. His one arm held the girl, the other his sword. “No one has to get hurt.” He tugged Monica closer to his chest and the girl glared furiously up at him, attempting to kick him in the shin but he was faster, twisting her arm so she whimpered and stood still at last. His patience with the situation was clearly running short. “You’ve lost your way, Vers. Come with us now, and the girl will not be hurt.”

Fury had sparks jumping from his fingertips, ready to unleash his deadly gift any moment. On her other side, Talos practically vibrated with pent up energy, his hands already halfway through a hold spell.

“Everyone wait,” Carol said, looking to her right and left at her fellow witches. 

Maria gaped at Carol with confusion, as if to say 'do something'. Carol looked at Yon.

“How did you find me?”

“We share blood. I can always feel where you are. ”

She could have kicked herself for not imagining this possibility sooner. Blood was a witch’s weakness. And she was... a witch. Had always been. And the Supreme had made sure she would always be on their leash, no matter how far she ran.

This was bad. Her mind worked furiously. She had to make a decision fast or the situation would erupt in violence and the potential death of people she cared for. There was only one way to end this in a way that didn’t put any of her kind, of her _family_ , in danger.

"Okay. I’ll come with you. Let the girl go.”

Maria made a horrified gasp. "Carol! You can’t go with them. I won’t lose you again!"

Carol didn’t wait for a debate to ensue. She knew the hunters and what they were capable of far better than Maria did. Perhaps Talos had a clue. Regardless, Carol wouldn’t let them throw their lives away when they were so close to their goal. 

Holding her arms wide in a gesture of surrender, Carol walked slowly towards Yon. On a whim, she mentally focused on Maria, the one with the strongest telepathic potential due to her natural affinity. 

_‘They don’t know we’re at the entrypoint to the Sanctuary. Take Monica with you.’_

_‘Carol!’_ Maria echoed back in despair, more a feeling than actual words.

_‘They will find me if I go with you. Be safe. I’ll never find you in there and neither will they.’_

Carol was one step away from Yon. He gave her a swift look-over, his brow creased with concern. She stared back, not caring to hide her feelings. Betrayal. Hurt. Loss. Both of the life that had been taken from her, and the life she thought she had had with him. One irrevocably lost and the other a lie. And she was now caught and held in limbo between the two by the power of their shared blood.

“You can let the girl go now.”

“One more thing, first.” Yon nodded downwards where she could see her Astrabellator star tucked into his belt. Carol’s breath hitched. She had entirely forgotten. “Put it on.”

Monica shook her head, pleading. "Don't, Carol!"

Carol tugged the star loose from his belt. She said severely to Monica, "Go to Maria. Don't look back."

Monica nodded with watering eyes. Carol slipped the chain over her head. True to his word, Yon let Monica go and the girl ran to her mother.

The moment the metal made contact with her chest, it was as if someone turned off the sound. Not actual, physical sounds but the constant, background hum of life and energy that she had slowly begun to tune in to. The natural flows that were the source of her power, now deadened by the cold metal. 

The hunters were suddenly alerted by something. Carol spun around. Where the witches had been previously, no one could be seen.

Yon grabbed her wrist and a shock went through her. Suddenly, all she could see and hear was him, the feel of his touch was all-encompassing. Startled, she looked down. A red trail ran down her hand, from a wound that Yon had cut in his hand while she was looking the other way.

“I’m sorry Vers,” he whispered, catching her with an arm around her back as she sagged against him, every ounce of fight having left her. “I’m sorry.”

***

When they had made it through the shimmering barrier, Maria could immediately feel the pressure of the ward as it closed behind her. She cried silently, holding Monica close to her side. The girl was alarmingly silent, looking hollowly ahead. Must be the shock, Maria thought.

The field they had left had nothing in common with the view that opened up to her now. On a low hill, surrounded by greenery, garden patches and a pond, was a gathering of houses. Three larger dwelling houses, a barn, and various smaller sheds and other windowless buildings. 

It all looked ridiculously pittoresque, like something out of the Lord of the Rings.

Talos and Fury were way ahead, walking along the grass lined gravel road. Especially Talos seemed like he was keeping himself from running. Maria had never been here, but he had. Many times, when he wasn’t on a mission to guide more of their people here. Meanwhile, Mar-vell’s pupil and informal second-in-command, Soren, had been responsible for the safety and upkeep of the Sanctuary and its wards.

She gave Monica a little reassuring squeeze and urged her on along the road. Far ahead, a gathering in front of the nearest building informed her that their arrival had not gone unnoticed.

The two men stopped in front of the group. Maria hurried her steps to catch up. A lean, tanned woman dressed in a flowing, white shirt and neatly patched jeans stepped forward. She had shifter-tattoos and her hair was crew cut. But what drew anyone’s attention were her radiant green eyes. 

Talos immediately stepped up to her. “Soren,” he greeted, a little hoarse, his usual certainty now replaced by trepidation. He stopped at arms length but the tilt of his body made it clear he wanted more. “You’re safe. And you look well.”

Soren nodded slowly, smiling a little. There was a kind of ethereal sageness about her. She looked Talos over with calm curiosity. His scruffy, uncut hair, dusty leather jacket and worn jeans suddenly seemed to make him self conscious. He pulled a hand through his hair. Even without her abilities, Maria could sense his nervousness.

“You must be tired,” Soren said, lifting her head to signal that she meant all of them. “Come. There will be food ready soon.”

Soren turned and began to walk into the village, followed by her small entourage. There were three of them, a small, black-haired woman with pale skin, a blonde boy in his late teens and a pretty girl about the same age with curly hazel hair.

Talos followed without taking his gaze off Soren’s back. 

Fury slowed his step and walked beside Maria and Monica. “What do you think will happen to Carol?”

Maria couldn’t answer. The words were too awful to say. That they would kill her. 

Suddenly Monica broke down, crying loudly. She pulled herself from Maria’s arm, curled up on the ground, burying her face in her hands. Maria bent down and stroked her back. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” She was lying so hard that her voice broke but couldn’t come up with anything else to say. “It’s okay,” she repeated over and over.

“It’s not ok!” Monica screamed. “It’s my fault! If I hadn’t fallen asleep…”

Maria’s gut clenched. She bristled. “It’s not your fault! It’s those heartless murderers’! We will not give up on Carol yet. Okay?”

The girl sniffed. “Okay.”

They walked towards the village and Maria stuck her hand in her pocket where she put something that at the time had made her ashamed for her lack of faith in her childhood friend, but now offered some form of hope. A vial of Carol’s blood. Fury looked questioningly at her. She held up the vial between her thumb and forefinger. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Is that..?”

“Carol’s. I saved some. Just in case, you know, the Supreme had some kind of control over her that we weren’t aware of.”

“Jesus…” He shook his head but smiled crookedly. “You’re more paranoid than Talos!”

She shrugged. “Mind-reading can do that to you. With it, I can find out where they took her. And there’s more than enough decent casters around this place to build a teleport to get us there and back again.”

“So we zap ourselves there, grab Carol, zap back?”

Her smile was tight-bitten. “I doubt it will be as simple as that. But it’s the general idea.”

Monica dried tears from her cheeks with her hands. “Thank you for being the most paranoid mom.”

They were ushered into the largest house where a long table was set for lunch. While they waited for the food, Soren sat down on the opposite side and asked them to tell her what had happened. With the excuse that he would get something to drink, Talos used the opportunity to switch sides so that he was sitting next to Soren. Maria did most of the talking, being the one with the first hand information on what had happened that night in her and Carol’s coven, when Marvell had been killed.

The black-haired woman that had been with Soren when they arrived, whose name was Tania but was nicknamed Tank, whispered something to Monica that made the girl chirp with excitement and shoot out of the room to join some other children in a game outdoors. Maria looked after her as she left. It warmed her heart to see Monica so excited to meet other children. They had lived isolated for too long.

The retelling of their story took longer than they had before lunch was ready, but Maria made it a priority to let Soren know what had occurred just before their arrival; who Carol was and that she was the reason they even made it here. Soren looked thoughtful, her gaze distant. 

“Marvell mentioned Carol. She had just come into her powers when they attacked, hadn’t she?” She looked at Maria now, who nodded. “Then I think the attack was no coincidence. Without a doubt, the Shade was looking for her.” 

The _Shade_ was the name Marvell and Soren had given the creature that the Hunters liked to call their Supreme. When in fact, it was just using their mortal wish for salvation to further its own goals. Whatever those were. Domination? Power? Immortality?

“What does that mean?” Talos asked, sounding a little lost.

Soren looked patiently at him. “I would assume it was intent on devouring her. Somehow it must have realized her potential and used her to find more of us, instead. Marvell warned us about using magic. I wasn’t sure why, but now I’m glad I listened to her. The wards will keep us hidden from Carol, so long as we don’t give ourselves away."

The irony that the Sanctuary has become a safe space for witches, but one where they could not perform their craft, left Maria momentarily speechless. She glanced at Fury and Talos, who both looked downcast.

"So you haven't used any magic, _at all,_ for six years?" The idea seemed absurd to Maria, magic was integrated into her life on a level where she hardly considered it an 'extra'. It was just there, solving big and small problems.

Soren chuckled at her profound confusion. "Simple spells are allowed. Nothing bigger though."

Maria drew a subconscious sigh of relief. Not a complete prison then.

It was time for lunch and the talk about the Shade would have to wait. There were many children and mothers, but the only adult men at the table were Fury, Talos and, if one was generous, the blonde teen named Giz. During the meal, consisting of home grown, boiled vegetables, fried eggs and flat buckwheat breads, Soren explained that going here wasn't an easy choice for most witches. But between the threat of the hunters finding them and knowing the Sanctuary was a one way trip, it was a choice most had to make. Many had lost all their remaining family.

Maria looked at Monica where the girl talked to a boy of the same age as both dug into their food. "They have been given a new one here though."

"I'd like to think so," Soren said wistfully, earning a glance from Talos that spoke volumes about his, by now, apparent infatuation.

Maria had to stop herself from sniggering. The man was so changed, he reminded her of a starved puppy with the way he barely took his eyes off Soren, who regarded him back with fond, albeit measured interest. 'Colleagues' he had described himself and Soren as.

"Meet me outside in half an hour," Soren said to Maria. She rose and looked at Talos, giving him a miniscule nod to follow before she glided towards the door, looking once over her shoulder, hips gently swaying. He made an effort to seem not too eager, but smiled too much for the illusion to work.

When they were gone, Maria's mood dampened. She turned to Fury. "I don't know how I'm gonna find Carol without a ritual."

Fury nodded somberly.

They helped clear the table. 

***

Talos took a few running steps to catch up with Soren in the yard. It was early autumn and the day was still warm, so he hadn't put his jacket on. When they had walked a bit from the main dwelling he realized he had forgotten his cigarettes in its pocket.

"You'll have to stop smoking anyways," she pointed out, noting his restlessness. "Unless you plan on growing your own tobacco but that's gonna be rough in this climate."

He forced himself to calm down despite the growing need to pull poison into his lungs. "I'm sure I'll think of something." Like her lips, for instance. His thoughts had rarely been occupied with anything else since their moment of arrival. That and the sore memory of one night six years ago and his promise to return soon.

"This changes everything, you know," she said. "Your arrival. Knowing what really happened."

"Carol," he added.

"Yes. I fear it's only a matter of time before we can't remain hidden."

While they spoke, she led him into the apple yard. The trees they had planted years ago had been enchanted, naturally, and now rose as tall as if they had stood here much longer. Their fruits were swollen and ready for picking. Like us, should the Shade find us, Talos thought, and said,

"Are you saying we should go on the offense instead?"

"I don't say it lightly," she said, frowning a little at his sceptical tone.

"I know you don't."

"You just don't agree?"

He plucked an apple, turning it in his hand before taking a bite. "I like these."

"Talos.”

He looked down. "Carol did the right thing. We should honor her choice."

"We can't stay here forever. There are kids here who have literally never seen anything but this village. Giz and Thalla were _twelve_ , and they keep asking me when we're gonna open up. Neither of them chose this." She ducked her head below his to look him in the eye. "This might be our best chance. Our only chance."

She was too close. He kissed her, not caring if she would push him away. She responded in kind and pulled him closer. If they were going to war, this was something neither of them would want to leave unresolved.

"I've missed you," she confessed. "So much."

He stopped for a moment, touching his forehead to hers. "Soren, I love you. I should have said it… earlier.” He chuckled, “As time went, I thought maybe I dreamed it all up; you and me and no clothes on."

“You didn’t dream it up,” she smiled and blushed, then became serious. "When we lost contact with the outside world, I assumed the worst. That we were the only ones left."

Talos nodded. “I can only imagine.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, letting herself be slowly rocked by his embrace. 

He continued, "But I’m here now. And if you think it's time to hand it to the hunters, I'm right behind you. Always."

***

Maria found Soren sitting on the stairs. She walked down the steps and settled next to the druidess. Soren was a comforting presence to her clairvoyant senses, emanating steady conviction and hope. She looked firmly at Maria.

"You should do the ritual."

Maria shook her head, confused. 

Soren spoke factually but her voice was warm. "Carol is likely not in a state where she can use her power to sense us. If, and let's be honest, she's even alive. So if there's any time to do it , now would be it."

"If you say so," Maria took out the vial. "Where can I draw?"

"The concrete floor in the barn works well as I recall. Mind if I join?"

"Sure. Where's Talos?"

"Talking to Tank, Fury and some more volunteers."

"Volunteers for what?"

Soren smiled wryly. "Your rescue mission, of course."

***

She was too still. He fought the urge to go to her, until the smallest rise of her chest confirmed that she was indeed alive. Feelings, _needs,_ that he should be able to stand above consumed him. Bearing her cheek and unruliness had been sufferable, albeit only just. Even when his body betrayed his self control, he had been able to find comfort in that it was only to be expected, a side effect of a sorts. He was a mortal man in the service of God, who had willingly bonded himself to a creature of dark, savage nature. For the greater good.

The bishop looked down at the sleeping Vers. Ronan's face was grave as always but there was an intent, a hunger, that jarred Yon. He schooled his face and his voice.

"What is the wish of the Supreme? What is to become of Vers?"

Ronan experimentally, for he knew he was playing with fire, tilted Vers's face, looking her over. He hummed, "They have a way of making you forget they aren't human." He looked up, meeting Yon's gaze. Yon clenched his jaw but kept his composure. Ronan smiled. "The Supreme has given me charge of her."

"But _I'm_ the one who is bonded to her,' Yon protested, the sudden surge of possessiveness shocking even him.

Ronan was unmoved by his outburst. "She will lure her kin to us, and we will be ready for them. God's will shall be done, for her as well as them. We shall rid this world of the last threat towards His holy creation, and ban the devil spawn from this realm, forever.”

His breath caught. “She is to die?” 

”What other outcome is there for a witch?”

Yon wavered, eyes darting between Ronan and the unmoving Vers. He should not be surprised; he shouldn't even feel regret. He fumbled after anything that could cool the rage and soothe the gut wrenching angst the determination of her fate wrought him.

Ronan's voice rolled over him like a dark, menacing force. "You doubt, brother."

Feeling caught, Yon chose not to answer. He simply bowed his head in respect, and fled the catacombs. Moving like a desperate man, he half ran to the church. 

"Help me," he whispered as he walked along the benchrows, finally reaching the altar ring where he kneeled. It didn't seem enough, so he stepped down to the stone floor and sank to his knees. 

The voice of the Supreme resounded through the hall. "My child."

Yon heard them step closer. He shut his eyes. A hand on his shoulder sent a shiver through him. The Supreme always did this with him. Sometimes it was his shoulder, sometimes his face.

He wondered if they touched anyone else. Vers would often forget herself and unwittingly share details of her confessions, and those never included the Supreme touching her.

There was no point lying to the Supreme. They knew what was in his heart and any attempt to bend that truth would be met with dissatisfaction. 

"Is it truly too late for Vers? Can she not be saved?"

The overwhelming presence of the Supreme made him sound frail. He was begging them, like a child.

Their voice was both gentle and foreboding. "You lost everything at the hands of her kind. You know, more than any of your fellow Astrabellators, the price mortals pay when the ungodly witches set their claws into you. You were chosen as her warden because I trusted this knowledge, this _pain,_ that you carry, would protect you from her influence."

Yon shivered. He remembered the sounds of breaking glass that had woken him as a child, the muffled sounds of shouts and a struggle from the downstairs level of his childhood home. He had snuck down the stairs to see what was happening, he witnessed his mother running from the kitchen towards the open front door when a ball of light and fire hit her in the back. She crumpled to the ground with a shout of agony. But she had always been strong and fierce, despite her injury she tried to stand once more. She staggered to her knees. When he raced to help her, she stared at him with shock and fear. 

"Run Yon!" was all the last thing she had said to him. She had been distracted by his appearance, and what looked like a tendrel of black smoke wrapped itself around her ankle and dragged her back through swinging saloon style doors of their small kitchen. He foolishly ran after her, as young children often do. When he burst into the kitchen, he saw his father on the floor motionless. A great looming dark presence floating over him, feeding from him. A man he thought he knew was standing over his mother, his hands sparking flames, the same kind that hit her. Yon shouted at him to get away from his mother, when another man, weilding a sword and armour scooped him from the ground. He deflected another fireball back at the warlock, before fleeing the house and taking Yon to safety.

Yon had awoken in the sanctuary hours later, and had been told of his parents demise at the hand of a crazed warlock who had pretended to be their friend. The anger he felt was immense, his grief, pain, even hatred all fed into that anger. He had used it to fuel his training as an Astrobellator initiate. He had learnt to control it, to hone himself as a weapon to avenge his parents and ensure no-one ever suffered like he had. 

Even now, as much as he tried to use that pain to remind himself of his purpose, to reconcile Vers' fate, he could not silence his heart. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach he had felt when she had disappeared suddenly into the portal, was akin to the feeling he had felt on learning of his parents' fate. He felt too much. It was true what the Supreme said. 

"I have been weak and led astray, your Supremeness."

"You have," they said dismissively. "But God will forgive your weakness. Let your brother Ronan guide your actions. He is not burdened with emotion in the way you have been."

Those were harsh words indeed. Sudden indignation, followed by deep embarrassment, flushed his cheeks. He forced his head to bow a little deeper. Control, he told himself.

"I will do what must be done, your Supremeness."

The Supreme let go of him and he could suddenly draw a full breath again.

"Go with the Lord's blessings, my child, and do what must be done."


	5. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue is mounted.
> 
>  **Warning:** Blood is used this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... I may have become a little carried away with this one. #notsorry  
> So now you get two chapters for the price of one!  
> Acceptable payment options are Kudos and Comments (and we all know comments are free premium currency).  
> Enjoy! ~Pandora-Cleo

The first thing Vers noticed was the cold, an uncomfortable cold that seeped deep into her bones. She tried to shift, to move her limbs and body to find warmth. Her limbs felt heavy, too heavy to move. The sheer idea of moving seemed too much for her brain.Try as she might, she could not will her body into movement, it would not comply, almost as if it wasn’t hers anymore, like she simply existed within it - floating and detached.

The second thing she noticed was the air, it tasted stale and dusty, made thick with the cold that surrounded her. It reminded her of the cellar of her house as a child. Carol hated going down there to collect the herbs or jars that were kept there for storage, something about the place seemed stifling.

The third thing was a pair of familiar hands on her. First on her face, brushing the hair from her forehead, then on her shoulders, shaking her awake. She still felt too heavy, moving felt too hard, she just wanted to sleep. As the hands jostled her more, she began to feel her body again, feel her fingers, her toes, the points on her flesh where fingers pressed. Even if everything was still so heavy. A voice so familiar called her name, but it wasn't her name, was it? No, not anymore. She remembered; she had a new name now.

The hands that tried to rouse her, instead scooped her up. They carried her away, but she didn't want to go. She didn't know where she was going, she knew where she wanted to be. With the woman from her dreams, with the kind eyes and dark skin. Maria. She needed to get to Maria.

With everything she had, she fought against her own body and willed it to life, moving in the arms carrying her. She opened her eyes and saw the long smooth ceiling of a hallway. There was shouting and sounds of fighting in the distance. She struggled against her captor, who halted to put her down. Her legs collapsed under her. She was caught once more, but this time the hands only helped her move on her own. Everything still felt so unreal. Like her head was full of cotton wool, or she was underwater and unable to surface.

Suddenly she hit the ground, palms scraping and knees crashing painfully against the cold stones. The weight of another’s body pressed against her back and side. Carol looked around, attempting to get her bearings. She knew this place, this corridor. If she was here, so was death. She needed to run.  _ Get up Carol. GET UP!! _

* * *

This wasn't the best plan she had come up with, but it arguably wasn't the worst. At least she could be relieved that this wasn't only her plan. Maria had been concerned that she would be the only one willing to risk saving Carol,but Talos and Fury had somehow scraped together a decent number of volunteers.

It was clear that Talos' true motivations had not been to find his “cousin” but had been to reunite with Soren. Maria couldn't blame him, in the brief few hours of knowing her, she could see why he was so enamoured with her. 

She was a strong woman and an excellent leader. It took someone with true strength of character to willingly risk their own safety to save a stranger from the deadliest of enemies. Yet Soren had gladly volunteered. As had Talos, yet Maria sensed his interest only extended as far as Soren’s. 

Fury on the other hand was entirely behind her. He acutely knew the loss of a friend to the hunters, to have them steal away someone you loved. He had been with Maria on this journey for Carol and for his own lost godson for longer than Talos had been with them.

The volunteers came from a range of backgrounds, each with offensive or defensive powers. Each happy to extract their pound of flesh from the hunters and their shade. Maria wouldn't complain, she’d take what she could get.

Fury had been joined by his mother, who also wanted to be called "Fury". Watching the exchange between mother and son had been an amusing balm on her nerves.

Maria had hoped her reunion with her own in-laws would have been smoother. Fury had found them for her whilst she was planning with Soren. She had wanted to take the time to slowly introduce them to Monica, they were her daughter’s family, but they were also strangers. Instead, she was forced to leave her baby girl in their care so she could save Carol. Time was of the essence, the longer those monsters had her, the more she was at risk. Would they kill her for her betrayal? Or use her again for their own nefarious plans to destroy her ilk?

She wasn’t sure what she was getting herself into, what she was getting them all into. But she had to try. The plan was quick and dirty, no time for the meticulous preparation she had done for their previous extraction of Carol. This time it would be a “smash and grab”, as Talos put it.

The group of volunteers had been assigned to three teams: distraction, extraction, and defence of the portal. Fury and Talos had attempted in vain to convince her and Soren to stay in defence of the portal. Maria blatantly refused, she would not leave her friend, her family, behind again. 

Unfortunately, they knew very little about the complex the Hunters called home. No witch or warlock who entered had ever returned and no spies had ever been able to successfully infiltrate to provide them information. Carol was the only magical being who had seen the inside of one, and they had not foreseen the need to ask her for those details, ironically. 

“Shifting from memory almost never works, mate. Our memories are notoriously faulty. All it would take is one of you to say ‘ _ I thought he was taller _ ’ and the whole thing becomes a shit show. The next thing we know, I’m walking around as a 6 foot version of someone who is 5”1, obvious to everyone I'm not who I'm supposed to be.” Talos’ voice cut through her reverie; his agitation palpable in the air around her.

Maria looked up from the portal runes she was drawing on the ground to watch the commotion. They didn't need to be bickering and falling apart before they had even left. 

“We don't need you to be accurate,  _ mate _ , we just need memories. If you can remember what one of them was doing this morning, where they walked, what the place looked like, at least we won't be going in blind.” Fury urged Talos

“I don't see how learning where they keep their Weet-Bix and Corn Flakes is going to help?” Talos grumbled at Fury.

Soren, who had been helping Maria, rose with a sigh, walking over to talk to Talos. The druidess turned once, giving Maria a little wink. Maria suspected if anyone could reason with Talos, it was her. It was easy to guess that this sudden childish bout of bickering was because he was on edge, and Maria couldn't blame him. They had just reached their goal after years of searching and now they were about to turn around and march straight into the belly of the beast they had all spent their lives running from.

Fury tried to reason with the irate shifter, “Surely if they were hell bent on capturing her again, they’d have considered what they were going to do to her? Every clue will help.” 

Talos only grunted in response. The broad bulking man stood in a corner of the barn, arms crossed and pouting like a child, with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Under other circumstances, it may have been funny, but Maria understood where his discomfort came from. It could not be easy to immerse yourself in the skin and thoughts of your enemy. His focus shifted as Soren approached, he seemed to relax, if only a little, by simply being in her presence.

Maria couldn't hear what the pair discussed, but eventually he unfurled himself with a defeated slump of his shoulders. 

Everyone watched as he stretched and loosened his limbs before announcing “Here goes…”

* * *

Yon Rogg’s knees ached from the cold stone beneath them. He had knelt in prayer in his chambers for what seemed like hours, yet he could not soothe his soul. In his weakness, he wanted to run back to the Supreme and beg for mercy for her, she had done so much, saved so many and helped them rid the Earth of so much darkness. Surely the Supreme could return her to the fold? Do to her what it had before, make her forget the past and once more render her his weapon against the darkness?

He tried to wrap his faith around his heart, to shield himself from the doubts that whispered in his ears. Every time he thought he had found success; he felt the pull of her in his blood. She was fighting the sedation. Always fighting, never still.

He remembered their sessions when he attempted to teach her meditation. Even with his eyes closed he could feel her fidgeting, she could not sit still for more than a minute. It had annoyed him to no end at first. But as he began to know her, he had learnt that it was less from impatience or lack of discipline and more from her irrepressible spirit. He admired her boundless energy, even if it did result in early wake up calls or restless meditation sessions. She was always striving for more, to do better. He would not call it ambition, but eagerness, an enthusiasm for life, that his jaded spirit had been drawn to.

_ They have a way of making you forget they aren't human. _ Ronan’s words cut through the warmth that had begun to build in his chest from his nostalgia. Vers had been the most human among them, he could not pretend otherwise. Try as he might. It was why he struggled so hard with the knowledge of her fate. She had contradicted everything he had known about witches. Without even realising he had questioned the true nature of their enemy. She had, and he did not use the term lightly, bewitched him.

Lost in the torment of his soul and conscience, he had not noticed his feet had carried him from his room. He had walked towards the catacombs once more. He paused. What had he hoped to achieve by being here? 

He chose to avoid the answer and walked towards the armoury. If prayer and penance could not settle him, perhaps hard work would. He was not yet ready to admit his weakness to the Bishop, and to seek his judgement and guidance.

Once in the armoury, Yon retrieved his sword and attempted to distract himself with its cleaning and care. A task normally attended to by Vers, but in her absence he would need to take on the responsibility. Another reminder of how she had bonded herself to his life.

The maintenance of his sword was not enough to distract him, so he moved to the training hall and started practicing formations. He moved through the forms time and time again until his muscles burned with the effort. Yet with every turn, every parry, he expected to see her there. Practicing alongside him or observing him from the sidelines, always with a smile ghosting her lips and a quip ready to tumble from them, as she attempted to elicit his own smile for her amusement, a gift he often gladly gave when he felt she earned it.

His frustration was mounting, his mind torturing him. In a fit of impotent rage not befitting a warrior of his rank, he hurled his sword at the far wall of the training hall. He had expected it to clatter to the ground, but instead it had lodged itself in the mortar between the stones. He sighed in disappointment at his own failings. He knew better than to let his emotions get the best of him.  _ Getting angry doesn’t solve anything. _

As he skulked to retrieve his sword, alarms began to sound. They were unfamiliar at first, it was not often such measures were activated. Only once the fire alarm had been activated, accidentally when Vers and Bronn had attempted to use her abilities to make popcorn after curfew, but this was not that sound.

This was the internal security sensor; there was an intruder inside the facility. Yon burst into action and ran to retrieve his blade. As he pulled the blade from the wall, an explosion ripped through the hallway. Rubble and dust showered over him and scorching heat filled the air as a fireball burst in through the doors. Had he been anywhere else in the room he would likely be dead.

Through the haze he saw sparks of coloured light, a clear indication of what had caused the explosion and triggered the alarms -  _ witches _ .

He ran forward, using the cover of the smoke to hide his presence, he attacked. He cut down two of them and injured a third before he had to take cover from another blast. A Mortem and a powerful Inferni held the hallway, pushing back the other Astrobellators who had come in defence of the facility. More witches and warlocks stood behind the pair countering the attacks of his comrades.

How had they even managed to breach the facility’s defences? The site was sacred, blessed by both Pope and the Supreme, it was invisible and impenetrable by most magic. Unless…  _ Vers _ . They had her blood, his blood. This was merely a distraction. He needed to get to her, it was she who they sought. A protective possessiveness burned in his chest, alongside concern for her. They would take her again from him, he would not allow it.

He retreated from his position and sprinted straight for the catacombs. He bounded down the steps that led to the corridor which held their entryway. He skidded to a halt at the picture in front of him, it took him a moment to understand what it was he was witness to. It seemed like a bizarre dream, watching his intended actions played out in front of him. He wondered for the briefest moment if this was what an out of body experience was like?

In the corridor before him, was the unmistakable sight of Vers, struggling to walk, arm slung over his very own shoulders as the pair attempted to make their way towards the opposite end of the hall. Witnessing his own likeness walking away from him was both surreal and unnerving. A shape shifter must have stolen his likeness to bypass the guards and steal her away. Anger boiled in his veins, not only for the violation of his own self, but for the treachery and deception of the woman in this facsimile’s arms. She thought it was him who was saving her.  _ Saving her from him _ . 

Yon removed a dagger from his belt and aimed for his copy. The blade sunk into the muscle of their calf, incapacitating them and halting their escape. He had aimed low to avoid hurting Vers, but instead the pair tumbled to the ground. He rushed forward as she hit the ground hard, he winced and hoped she had not been injured in the fall. The shifter next to her growled in pain and attempted to detangle itself from its charge and clutch at its leg. Yon heaved the creature off her and gave a swift blow with the butt of his sword to its head, knocking it out. He grabbed for Vers, who was struggling to crawl, the sedative in her system was beginning to wear off but not fast enough.

Righting her, he quickly moved them forward in the direction she had already been heading. He needed to assess the situation; if he took her back to the catacombs, the witches would only come looking for her again. He would also be condemning her to death, as he did not trust Ronan to not execute her himself. Perhaps they could seek sanctuary in the hall of the Cathedral?

“Yon… where...are we?” 

He looked at her when he heard her speak his name. He had expected to see the same anger and betrayal he had seen in her eyes in the field, but she simply looked at him bewildered. 

“We need to seek sanctuary, it's not safe here. We’re under attack.” He pushed forward, he needed distance from his fake counterpart.

“Was I… was I in the catacombs?” 

Guilt welled up at her question. He could not tell her of the fate which she had been assigned to, not whilst he still held onto the hope it could be avoided.

“I need you to focus,” he insisted instead, hoping to distract her and buy him more time. If either side came across them, they would look suspicious.

“Hey! We need to find another way, we’re cut off!” a woman called from behind them. Yon recognised her as the woman from the field, the mother of the girl he reluctantly used as a hostage. Somehow she and the others had vanished… somewhere. It was curious, the memory was hazy. Admittedly he had been focused on Vers, but still it was unlike him or his team not to have noticed where 3 grown adults had disappeared to in the middle of a field. Suspicion began to form in his mind as he grappled for an explanation. Regardless, it seems she had returned with reinforcements from somewhere, to take Vers in some misguided view she was saving her. 

Maybe he should let her. However, letting them go would only delay the inevitable. His team would find them eventually and they would be slain as the monsters they were under the guidance of the Supreme. Vers’ fate seemed inescapable. Perhaps there was still another way? Yon wondered as the woman caught up to them. 

“This way, there’s another route,” he beckoned them towards the church. As they hurried along, Yon made his decision. Even if it sat uneasy with him. When Abraham was asked to sacrifice his son Isaac to God as a sign of his faith and devotion, an angel appeared to him and spared Isaac; instead of his son, Abraham sacrificed a lamb he was shown instead. 

He beckoned the women past the door of the church. He handed Vers over to the woman and turned to shut the door behind them. With a thunk, click, the metal deadbolt of the doors sealed them in. The sound sank deep into the hollow of his chest, under his heart. He closed his eyes and rested his brow on the cold wood of the door. He hoped this would work, that the Supreme would trade the life of this woman for Vers. More importantly, that Vers would forgive him for this trespass.

He turned slowly to look at the pair. Vers at first clung to the woman, but then her stance changed from needing support to a defensive position, poising to protect the witch beside her. The witch looked around confused, likely looking for an exit, whereas Vers only looked at him with betrayal as it dawned on her why they were in the church. She tried to put on a brave face, but he could see a slither of fear in her eyes. It pierced his heart. When her village had burned around her, he had not seen fear on her face. Even when she woke scared from her dreams, she had never looked like this.

He stepped forward, reaching for her. She recoiled but still placed herself between him and the witch at her side. “Vers…let me explain…” 

* * *

“I think he may have been taller?” one of the volunteers joked with Talos, earning her a solid glare from the shifter and a mock punch to her arm from Soren.

“You weren’t even there, Tank,” Talos ground out between his teeth.

It was strange hearing his voice from the mouth of the man who had manhandled her baby girl a few hours earlier.

Talos paced in his new skin as he sifted through the memories of the lead Hunter. The group watched as he lit up another cigarette and took a drag. He gagged and choked on the smoke immediately. Through the coughing fit he choked out, 

“Figures, the bloody puritan hasn’t had a cigarette in his life.” He viscously cast the smoke aside, as coughs still wracked though his chest.

“It seems a bit of a maze… there’s a church, or maybe it’s in a cathedral?” he supposed as he tried to interpret what he saw within his mind. He closed his eyes, subconsciously raised his face to the ceiling, and slowly shifted his head around, as if he was tipping the memories around his mind.

He scoffed, “There’s a bloody war room kitted out like fucking NASA.” No wonder they were so good at what they did. “A mess hall…” Talos continued to convey information he deemed relevant.

“No corn flakes?” Fury mocked.

Talos huffed the closest thing to a laugh she’d ever heard from him.

“Where are they keeping her?” Maria charged forward, she knew she was growing impatient, yet she was desperate to know.

“It’s not that simple. There’s a process… I need to experience the memories before I can recall the details,” Talos explained with more patience than Maria expected from him. Soren soothed her hand down Maria’s arm, as her powers did the same to Maria’s aura.

She breathed deep, trying to steady herself, whilst Talos continued to pace.

“There are dungeons, no - tombs…. catacombs… that’s where he thought they’d hold her, that’s likely where she’ll be.”

Maria nodded, “Then that’s where we’ll start to look.” She let Talos and Fury discuss their options to distract the hunters with the others whilst she prepared Carol’s blood.

When everyone was ready, they gathered around the edge of the circle she had drawn on the ground to contain the portal. 

A portal was advanced magic, but Maria had a good grasp on it. The challenge in this case was that their destination was unknown, determined only through the link to Carol. In front of her stood Soren, looking at her with steady calm, holding the blood vial between them. “Ready?” she asked. Maria replied with a tight nod. 

Soren drew signs on Maria’s forehead, navel, the back of her hands and her wrists. She already felt the pull of the six anchor points as she began drawing the portal runes. Her movements were mimicked by everyone in the room, adding their power to her spell. A swirling, dark vortex appeared in front to her, flickering and pulsating as the opening grew wider. Soon the middle began to clear up, and once the opening was wide enough for them to step through, she stopped casting - before it became unstable. 

For a moment, everyone was frozen in awe, but then Soren stepped through and that jolted the rest into action. Maria crossed the threshold last.

They found themselves in a small courtyard surrounded by low hedges and a fountain burbling behind them. It was night where they had found themselves, yet they had left mid-afternoon from the sanctuary. The group moved forward quietly, surveying their surroundings for any sign they had been noticed. Nothing, thankfully.

Those entrusted with the protection of the found their positions and hunkered down for a wait. Maria joined Talos as he got his bearings and instructed the others on where to go to find the war room and cause as much damage as possible. Soren trailed up behind them after checking with those who were to remain behind.  A surprised shout made Maria turn around, watching as the portal began to flicker and shrink. 

“No…” she ran forward and drew hurried glyphs to add strength to it. It stabilized but she dared not stop. She hadn’t anticipated needing to cross such a distance. They were clearly on another continent; Maria had thought they would still be in North America. They couldn’t lose the portal, otherwise they’d never get back to the sanctuary, they’d be stranded here with no memory of how to get back.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Soren next to her. The druidess had joined her in attempting to strengthen the portal,  drawing glyph after glyph with steady hands . “Go.” Soren instructed her, “Find your friend. I’ve got this.” Maria wanted to hug her for taking her place and giving her the chance to go, but they didn’t have the time.

Maria joined Talos and they set off in search of the lower levels. After a few false turns they found the stairs leading to the catacombs. It was dark and cold and smelt of death. It gave her the chills. She followed quietly behind Talos, when they came across some guards lurking in front of an archway. Talos stopped, then swiftly moved backwards, pulling Maria with him into the shadow cast by a nearby wall, where they were out of sight.

“What do we do?” she whispered, at this point she was entirely reliant on Talos for any defensive magic; she wasn't helpless, but that wasn’t her department.

“I guess I give this a try,” he pointed to his face; the face of the hunter that he still wore.

He moved forward and the guards stood to attention in the presence of their superior.

“At ease.” The foreign accent rolled from Talos’ tongue easily. Sirens started to blare from a distance, muffled by the stone walls around them. Talos reacted, zapping one guard and then choking the other out. Maria hurried past him as the second guard stopped struggling.

In the centre of the room she saw Carol on a stone slab, it looked like a perverse altar. The air around them screamed in agony. These walls had witnessed horrors, the pain had leached into their stone and permeated the air. They needed to leave and urgently. 

She ran to Carol and tried to shake her awake “Carol. Carol, can you hear me? It’s us, I need you to wake up.” It wasn’t working, she was heavily sedated. Maria felt the workings of a spell, something dark.

“We don’t have time for this,” gruffed Talos and he pushed past her to scoop Carol up. “Lead the way.” He motioned with his head, and they hurried back the way they came. She stopped for a moment and picked up one of the guard’s weapons, a knife. At least now she had some defense.

When they reached the hall above, they could clearly hear the fighting. “They’re closer” commented Talos, and she began to worry about their escape. Carol was beginning to stir; she began to struggle against Talos. Maria hurried ahead to the end of the hallway to see if it was clear. When she looked back over her shoulder, Talos had stopped to put Carol down before he dropped her. “Go on ahead” he called to her, “we’re right behind you”. She rounded the corner and continued back the way they came.

The fighting sounds grew louder, and she could smell smoke. She found the way out towards the garden was blocked. The roof had caved in a fire raged in the hallway. Fury’s mother was causing a hell of a lot of damage. Which was bad for the Hunters and now for them.

She ran back to find Talos and Carol, she caught them making a wrong turn. Talos seemed to struggle helping Carol. Typically, she wasn’t being very cooperative. 

“Hey! We need to find another way, we’re cut off!” she called out to them; she hurried her steps to catch up as they waited for her.

Talos hesitated a moment, before saying, “This way, there’s another route” 

She followed; he must have remembered something from the hunter’s memories.

The sounds of the fighting fell away, and soon they found themselves heading through a pair of giant wooden doors leading to a chapel. Talos handed Carol over to her, and Maria guided Carol further inside as he shut the doors behind them. She heard the click of a lock and felt Carol tense beside her. The spell or sedation was wearing off quicker the further away they were from that underground room.

However, Maria sensed something was equally wrong with this place. A dark presence resided here; she could feel the way it lapped against her life force. She looked around searching for the source of this unsettling feeling. Carol shifted in her arms and pushed her back, standing in between her and Talos. She started to tell Carol it was ok, that it was only Talos and not the real deal, when she realised her own mistake. The look on the hunter’s face was pained, his voice laden with guilt - and fear, strange as it seemed.

“Vers…let me explain…” 

Maria’s blood ran cold. What had he done to Talos? She hadn’t been gone that long. How had the hunter found them so fast?

The presence she felt was slowly coalescing somewhere overhead in the vaulting ceiling above the chancel, but she was more concerned about the immediate threat in front of her. She removed the knife she had procured and gently pressed the handle into the small of Carol’s back, being careful not to let the iron blade cut their skin. Carol reached around and grasped it, as she slowly backed them down the nave and towards the transepts. It would be more useful in her hands.

The hunter was trying to reason with her, did this sack of shit seriously think they were doing her a favour all this time? 

Maria snarled, “You used her to hunt her own kind knowing what she was.”

He took a hostile step forward. “Your kind are evil; you are a scourge which must be eradicated for the protection of the innocence you prey on.” She felt the venom behind his words, they weren’t mindless doctrine these monsters were known to spout; this guy’s grudge was personal.

“What did we ever do to you?” she argued, hoping to distract him and keep him talking. Perhaps a good old fashion bad guy monologue could buy them enough time to figure a way out. Maria almost didn’t catch Carol’s question; it was barely a whisper.

“You think I’m evil?”

She never got to hear the reply. The coalescing presence she had felt suddenly became all encompassing, like pressure from an oncoming storm, stirring and numbing her clairvoyant senses with a force that made her gasp. Whatever this was, it was more powerful than anything she had felt.

A disembodied voice echoed above and around them,

“You cannot fight the will of the Divine, child. Death comes to all mortals.”


	6. Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is always darkest before the dawn

“Fucking hunters!” groaned Talos as he grasped his head. He wasn’t sure what hurt worse; the lump beginning to form on the side of his skull, or his leg where the asshole hunter’s blade stuck out. Talos drew a deep breath and braced himself for the pain. With a swift jerk, he pulled the dagger out of his calf. He knew he would bleed like a stuck pig, but he couldn’t exactly walk around with a knife in his leg. It burned like fire and he saw nasty black lines like ink grow out from around the wound.  _ Great _ . It was a cursed iron blade, just what he needed, blood poisoning. He looked up the hall and saw no sign of Carol, Maria, or the bastard that had caught up with them.

He stumbled to his feet and started towards the gardens. Before he reached the end of the hall, he heard footsteps approaching. He pressed his back against the stone, and with the blade raised in hand, he waited for the approaching hunters to turn the corner. He guessed there were 3 of them from the sounds of the footsteps. The best he could hope for was to take the first two out by surprise and hope he managed to do the same to the third. As they rounded the corner, he swung the blade down, only to be stopped just in time by eyes that he had dreamed of for years.

“Soren…” he breathed out in relief. “You’re supposed to be guarding the portal.”

“You were taking too long, I got worried. Veda and two of the others are holding the portal. Did you find Carol?” she asked him.

“Where’s Maria?” asked Fury, who had accompanied her. So much for him leading the anarchy.

“Did she not make it back to you?” Maria had gone to the check the way; she should have crossed their path

“No,” lilted Soren, who had noticed the shift in his weight due to the leg wound and crouched to inspect it. She pulled out a bandage and some form of poultice from inside her jacket and proceeded to quickly dress his leg. 

He hissed as the compress was pressed against his wound. He smiled to himself as he watched her, she always managed to surprise him, even when he should know better. Of course, she’d bring healing supplies to a fight.

“She ran ahead to check if the way was clear while I tried to help Carol.” He pointed to his face. “This damn hunter snuck up on us, knocked me out and left me for the next one, I guess. He probably has Carol again, and Maria.” He hoped that was the case. He honestly didn’t want to find either of their bodies in this God forsaken place.

“This place is a maze; they could be anywhere,” commented Tank; where Soren went, Tank followed.

They would need to go searching for them. The fastest way to find out would be to rephase as this bastard and get a fresh dump of memories, but that wouldn’t tell him where they would be headed. Talos did not want to risk rephasing with the poison from the iron blade in his system; he could pump it through to his heart faster and end up dead himself. He just found Soren again, he loathed to lose his chance at happiness with her so soon.

Perhaps he could briefly bridge with the hunter? The essence of the shifting process connects a shifter with the one whose form you are taking. It is how shifters acquire their memories, their voice, their words. The ancients of his kind could see through the eyes of others; of animal and man, but that skill had been lost generations ago when their elders had been culled in the colonisation of their lands.

Talos was strong, he was one of the strongest shifters left, and prided himself on his skills. He had perfected his magic and had reached its limits. Without further teaching from those who knew the ancient ways, he could not progress his skills beyond what he already knew. 

Soren had claimed he had the potential of empathy, that it was innate to his abilities. She had tried to coax it out of him, to pull it from the shell he had built around his heart, around his soul. He had let her in, and the spark of potential had been lit. Then he lost her again, and he had mortared up the cracks she had opened in him.

He sure as hell didn’t want to open up again to let a damn hunter in. Those spaces were for her and her alone.

As if she could sense his inner turmoil, he felt her reach out and brush against those very cracks in his shield, soothing him.

They needed to hurry, they couldn’t be caught and didn’t have time to blindly search the labyrinth that this place was.

Talos didn’t need to let the ass-hat all the way in, just enough to get a sense of direction. Clutching the hunter’s blade, he used it to anchor him to the bastard. He felt Soren place her palm over his heart, lending some of her ability to him. A warm glow emanated from inside his chest, and a flash of sensation hit him. Anger, fear, frustration. Not feelings he expected from a head honcho hunter.

He tried again, pushing harder. An image flashed before him, the girls were together, alive, he had them cornered in a dark cavernous room. There were benches in his periphery.

“The church!”

* * *

“Explain what?” she bit at him “Your lies? Your betrayal? Why I was in the catacombs waiting to be executed? Or why you’ve led us like lambs to the slaughter to feed your shade?” The last of the sedation was wearing off as she backed herself and Maria down the aisle.

“I never lied to you. Your past was lost to you, we knew nothing of it to inform you otherwise. You have extraordinary gifts and have been blessed by the Supreme with the opportunity to use them for the good of mankind. I trained you, helped you, and made you a better version of yourself.” His frustrations were mounting, could she not see everything they had done for her despite what she was?

“You used her to hunt her own kind knowing what she was,” the witch came to Vers’ defence.

“Your kind are evil; you are a scourge which must be eradicated for the protection of the innocence you prey on,” he bit back with righteous indignation, moving another step forward.

“What did we ever do to you?” asked the witch. At the same time he heard Vers barely whisper, 

“You think I’m evil?”

He was torn between the two questions, rage burned in his chest as he remembered his parent’s bodies on their kitchen floor, but the pain in Vers' voice caught at his heart. He could never stand her being in pain, and he had never known her as anything close to evil.

He furrowed his brow and shook his head at her. “Never!” he whispered back for her ears only, as the voice of the Supreme echoed through the lofty roof of the chapel.

“You cannot fight the will of the Divine, child. Death comes to all mortals.”

Both women panicked and looked for the source of the voice. Yon looked towards the altar ring expecting to see the cloaked figure of the Supreme but found nothing.

“Your Supremeness, forgive our trespass. The facility is under attack by wit-”

“Witches who have come wanting to bring us to our knees and instead find themselves kneeling at our mercy,” the disembodied voice echoed through the vaulting roof once more. It was a strange and eerie experience; it made the hairs on the back of Yon’s neck stand. Had the Supreme been on the upper level praying before their interruption?

He heard the voice of the Supreme once more, but this time from directly behind him. “You have done well General. You have bought not only the Traitor but the key to eradicating their final sanctuary.” The sudden appearance of the Supreme momentarily stunned Yon. He stumbled backward trying to distance himself; his instincts screaming at him to back up, to run. 

Yon steadied himself, shaking the foolish notion from his thoughts. He was on edge, his adrenaline pumping from the explosion and the race to get to Vers. He was letting his emotions overwhelm him, there was nothing to fear here. Yon sunk to one knee in reverence of his master’s presence, and in the hopes that his supplication would grant him his request.

“Your Eminence, I strongly believe that Vers can still play a vital role in the war against our enemy, as she did before. I brought her to you for protection, to keep her from the witches.” he explained.

“And yet you brought another of their kind with you” the Supreme asked, his patience seeming to wane.

“A trade. As you said, this witch is the key to finding more of her kind, a chance to strike a final blow and win the war. I see now that God has been testing my resolve and my faith in our purpose. I stand firm and he has presented us with an alternative path.” Yon hoped to enlighten the Supreme with his revelation.

“You feel it is your place to know such things? Do you claim to understand the will of the Divine?” scolded his master.

“No, I…” Yon bowed his head in shame, he had not meant to be boastful.

“Hubris is a sin, General. There is more to this than your weak feeble mind could possibly comprehend. It is not the place of mortals to question the Divine, only to do what has been instructed. Your lapse in judgement will be tolerated, the source of your doubt will no longer cause you distress. I intend to see to it.” Yon watched as the Supreme passed him and approached Vers.

Vers spun and pushed her companion between the benches as they scampered towards the outside aisle of the nave. Yon was perplexed by her reaction. There were only the four of them present, and if he was honest, her training and skill could easily overpower the Supreme. She had no need to fear him.

"There is no escape” the Supreme taunted her as he slowly progressed forward.

“Go to Hell, you parasite!” Vers’ bit back, a slither of fear in her voice.

He did not understand their fear. The Supreme was a wise and holy man, reclusive in his ways, shutting himself away to better commune with the Holy Spirit and guide the Astrobellators on their holy quest. He was not a trained warrior, although he was blessed by the power of God, why did she not attempt to fight him? Was her loyalty still intact? Could she not strike down the man who was the guiding voice in their lives?

Something was not right, but Yon was blind to it. He could not think past the ball of guilt and remorse that had settled in his chest like a stone. He had hoped in vain; he had let his feelings cloud his judgement. His hubris had caused him to betray his convictions in both thought and deed. The Supreme was right, he was weak, unworthy. His parents no doubt turned in their graves at the fact he had begged for the life of one of the beings that had murdered them.

How had he wandered so far from the path of light?

The Supreme chuckled, amused by the insult Vers had spat at him.

The pair separated, Vers scaled the pew behind her drawing the attention of the Supreme, whilst the witch headed back toward the door.

Yon watched as Vers continued to scramble over the pews, resisting the urge to intercede on her behalf. Instead his attention was drawn to the sound of fists against the oak doors at the entrance. The witch was fumbling with the lock, trying to rotate the gears attached to the heavy metal bar which currently bolted the doors into place. Yon clambered to his feet.

Slamming a hand against the panels, he secured the bolt back into place with one swift move. The action caught the witch by surprise. The faint calls of “Maria” could be heard through the panelling. He placed Maria into an arm lock and spun her around to watch Vers launch herself off the pews and plunge a dagger into the heart of the Supreme.

* * *

Carol tried to keep herself between Maria and Yon. She had hoped he would reconsider his actions if she was in the way. He had tried to help her, he had fetched her from the catacombs, maybe he did care on some level.

When the voice of the Supreme rang through the chapel she had felt sick. How many times had she sought comfort and solace from that voice? How many times had she exposed her soul to the creature that had lurked within the confessional booth?

She felt fear run down her spine as she watched a hooded figure emerge from the shadows behind Yon. She knew it had not been there before. 

She didn't know what it was, but she knew it wasn't human. She didn't need her magic to know that. 

“What is that thing?” Maria asked her.

“My old boss,” she tried to joke back, hoping to summon something other than the overwhelming dread she currently felt.

It all made so much sense now; she had never seen the Supreme, never directly. She always communed with him in the confessionals. Once when the entire team had been bought before the Supreme, they had all averted their gaze, following the lead of their General. She had only dared to look at the stone at her feet, the hem of a robe in her periphery was the only glimpse she caught of him.

Even now Yon, in his delirious attempt to barter Maria’s life for hers, refused to see what was right in front of him. They had been blindly following a husk of a creature, some wraith of some kind, on its personal crusade to destroy her people.

_ A shade _ she remembered Marvell had called it once when she was young. But this ominous humanoid thing didn't resemble a shade. At least not the ones she remembered from her grimoire. It had presence, hell it wore a robe for goodness sake. Even if she couldn't see up under the hood.

They needed a plan, they needed to get out of dodge before that thing got to them. Carol wasn't sure exactly what it could do, but she wasn’t willing to find out.

It had shut Yon down and put him in his place. If his plan hadn't been handing her best friend and only family over in exchange for her life, she may have been touched by his attempt to save her. She certainly was peeved by the way the Supreme talked to him. He deserved better than that, even if he was a lying bastard,  _ she _ still cared.

_ Crap _ ! Problem! That thing was now heading their way and she needed to get Maria to safety.

Carol backed them down the nearest row in an attempt to put a hurdle between them and it. She was still sluggish from whatever spell or drug she had been under before. She wasn't thinking as clearly as she normally would.

"There is no escape,” the Supreme taunted them.

“Go to Hell, you parasite!” Actually, that's probably exactly where it came from. 

“The others are close, I feel them,” Maria mumbled to her. Good! They needed backup.

“Get the door,” she told Maria before shoving her towards the end of the row and scooting backwards over the pew behind her. She didn’t want to take her eyes off the thing in case it tried something.

It chuckled at her. She hadn't realised it had a sense of humour. All this time she’d been wasting her jokes on Yon and Att.

“Fighting is futile, it is your destiny to die. Why do you fight the will of the Divine?” the Supreme drawled its voice dripping with condescension.

“Cut the crap, we both know you don’t speak for God,” Carol reprimanded as she continued to clamber over the pews and draw it further into the cathedral.

“I do not speak of God,” it chuckled, ”but of myself”

“You’re insane! You’re not Divine you’re a monster! A leech that’s brainwashed these people into believing your lies and killing innocents.”

“You sound so much like Marvell; so sure of yourself and yet you know nothing. I am a power beyond your imagination. I am timeless, immortal. Your kind wither and die, whilst I live on. You are merely ants, whilst I am the boot.”

“Don’t you speak her name!” she ground between her teeth.

“She tried in vain to protect you from me. As did your mother before that. Now your friends and the poor General. All that meaningless sacrifice for naught.”

Anger boiled through her veins. Her world narrowed to the hooded creature in front of her. Nothing else mattered. She heard the door click in the distance, but she wasn't waiting for the others, she was acting now. One of Yon’s lessons echoed in her ear.  _ You are too impatient, too hasty _ , yet it only spurred her onward. With the dagger poised in her hand, she launched herself off the pew directly at the Supreme. She plunged the iron blade directly into its heart, right to the hilt, like Yon had taught her. The force of her blow pushed the creature back a few steps. With satisfying relief, she waited for the thing to collapse to her feet dead, and they would all finally be free .

Instead it laughed, a maniacal echoing laugh. It pulled the knife from its chest, the blade clattered as it hit the ground. She watched it fall, unable to believe what she was seeing. She noticed the blade was clean, no blood, nothing.

Double crap!

Before she understood what was happening, she was soaring backwards through the air, tossed like a rag doll. She impacted with the altar and rolled down the stone steps of the chancel.

The pain was excruciating. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to pull air into her lungs, but it burned. She hoped she hadn’t broken a rib.

She heard Maria scream her name. Carol looked down the nave and watched as the shadowy figure of the Supreme approached her, like a predator.

For a moment she thought she may have hit her head, as the figure of the Supreme grew hazy around the edges, it seemed to expand and encompass her vision. It glided towards her, as if it no longer cared to pretend to walk. The hooded robe It wore oozed tendrils of dark mist into the air around it.

Carol realised her mistake. No weapons could ever kill this thing.

Carol grabbed at the medallion around her neck, as she clutched the star, the metal seared into her skin, she cried out at the pain. She grasped her hand, looking at the scarred and puckered flesh. The star had branded itself into her palm. It had never done so before.

The Supreme laughed, it was a hollow dreadful sound that made her skin crawl, “A little extra precaution to ensure you stay leashed and kept in your place.”

Carol scrambled backwards, struggling through the agony she felt. The Supreme loomed before her as it reached the start of the pews. Even with distance between them, its presence encompassed her vision.

“Fighting is futile. You cannot resist me. I will take my fill of you and finally taste the power in your veins.”

It reached for her, but where she expected a gnarled hand, something like a smoke tentacle burst out and wrapped itself around her throat and hoisted her into the air. She felt it squeeze, starting to choke her. She felt the air from her lungs escape her and watched as wisps of golden light leave her skin and drift into the void that should have been its face.

* * *

Yon was stunned, he could not comprehend what he was seeing. It was impossible. It was inhuman. Vers had been thrown almost the entire length of the cathedral. Nothing could survive her attack; he had taught her the move himself. He knew how lethal it was. And yet…

An elbow to his solar plexus, and knee to the groin caused him to double over and release the witch. His grip on her had slackened whilst he’d watched the scene before them. He had not paid heed to the voices behind the door nor what they had called.

He watched as Maria dived to the side behind a pew bench as the doors burst open behind them with violent force. He barely managed to move out of harm’s way as the wood splintered and rained down upon him.

Bursts of magic flew over his head toward the Supreme.

He tried to move when a sudden pain lanced through his side. A sizable shard of the door was protruding from his skin. It seemed he was not quick enough after all. Blood bubbled over the wood, painting it a glossy dark colour. Yon pulled it free and crouched to look over the pews, clutching his side to stem the bleeding.

Where the Supreme once was, now stood a nightmarish horror. The Supreme had transformed into something unworldly and unnatural. It had shifted its attention from Vers to the motley crew who had come to save her.

Three stood shoulder to shoulder, casting magic at the creature whilst a fourth rushed together with Maria to aid Vers.  _ Vers. _ She was sprawled upon the floor, pale and lifeless. Panic shot through him; she couldn’t be dead.

Yon scrambled to his feet to make it to her side, he stumbled to the outer aisle to avoid the battle in the centre. As he ventured forward, the Supreme, or the creature that it had become, continued to morph into an apparition of evil. It was no longer just reminiscent of a nightmare, but now from his  _ own _ nightmares.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he caught sight of a strangely familiar face. It was one of the warlocks, sending lightning from his hands, fingers furiously moving to form one spell after another, hurling them against the creature that had been his master and leader. But it was all in vain, the spells absorbed or shattered against the dark shadowy form, as if they were nothing. Black tendrils shot out from the billowing form and restrained them, preventing them from fighting back. Maria, who was crouched over Vers, trying to revive her, was scooped up around her middle and dragged from Vers’ side, as was the woman who accompanied her.

He watched as the creature began drinking in their magic and lifeforce. Yon was a helpless child once more, standing in his family kitchen, watching as this nightmarish creature drained his own father. He began to understand, to see what had happened in a new light, even if he struggled to accept it. The warlock had been the  _ defender _ , not the aggressor. His mentor had not been the saviour of a young boy, but his  _ kidnapper _ . This thing, the Supreme, the man who had given him a home and a purpose, had been the one to kill his parents.

It had all been a lie. What else had been lies? His devotion to his purpose had not been, he had simply been on the wrong path, looking for the wrong monster. This was not the moment to re-evaluate his life’s achievements. No, now was the time to act. For his parents, for his stolen childhood.

Yon unsheathed his sword, he hoped the blessed blade tempered in the Holy flame could cut this creature down like it deserved. He paced forward as the creature shot another arm towards Vers. He would not let her come to more harm at the hands of this thing.

He slashed at the arm and then the creature, causing it to let out an unholy screech. The arm that had reached for Vers evaporated into wisps in the air. Yet it wasn’t long before another shot out and collided with his chest, sending him reeling into a stone column along the outer aisle.

His attempt on the creature was enough for it to loosen its grip on the others. The Mortem with the familiar face managed a blast at its central form which quickly drew its attention. It doubled its efforts on the witches in its clutches.

They were not strong enough for it. Yon doubted, even combined, they could manage to defeat it. But Vers was, he –  _ it _ – had said so since the beginning:  _ Too dangerous to be allowed to live, too powerful to be free. _ Why else would the Supreme have needed to re-bless her medallion once she remembered what she was? Yon crawled to where Vers was still unconscious. He leaned down and scooped her up. He gently shook her, smoothing back the golden hairs that were plastered to her face.

“Vers.  _ Vers.” _

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him. A small part of him had hoped she would smile up at him. Instead she lurched at the sight of him over her. 

“It's ok,” he tried to soothe her. She raised her hand to her throat, and he saw the red, raised blisters on her palm. He gently took her hand, turning it to see more clearly. The star from her medallion, the star  _ he _ chose for her, the mirror of his own, was seared into her flesh. It would scar, a lifelong reminder of the chains he had bound her in.

“Forgive me,” he begged, his voice soft and low, only for her. He then raised her palm to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss to the wound. He clutched her medallion and swept it over her head. Freeing her from the collar their master had leashed her with.

* * *

“Fool!” the booming disembodied voice of the Supreme echoed through the hall once more.

Vers and Yon looked at the creature, whose fury could be felt all around. The creature was hovering in the centre of the hall, appendages of smoke outstretched and clutching at her friends, suspending them above the wooden pews. 

Another tendril whipped out towards them, but Yon moved to shield her from it. Instead of its mark, it wrapped itself around his ankle and dragged him backwards. She tried to grab his arms and save him, instead she clutched at thin air as she watched in horror as the monstrous shade dragged him along the stone floors towards it.

"Leave them alone!" she screamed in vain at the creature.

It simply laughed at her in response. She watched as her friends tried and failed to free themselves from the Supreme's clutches.

She could feel their pain and their distress as the world around her awakened. She understood now why she had dreaded communion, why the vaulting chamber of the cathedral had always seemed cold and uninviting. A chilling presence, devoid of life, seeped from the walls. This creature had leached the life from the very stone around them. Its presence was all encompassing, its edges almost endless.

Once more it made an attempt at her, but she blocked its advance with a quick shielding spell. It was poorly executed but she pumped enough power into it to work.

It growled, unamused by the emergence of her magic.

A burst of dark magic hurtled towards her and she dove behind the altar. She heard the crackle of the sparks against the marble. 

She tried an attack spell herself, but it failed to ignite in her hands. She tried again, a ball of blue and red sparks simply fizzled out in front of her. She switched to a shielding spell, something a little more permanent than before.

A golden glowing wall sectioned her off from the creature and her friends. She was safe, but they were still at its mercy.

She felt like a fraud, so much for being an all powerful celestial. She couldn't do this, even though her magic was flowing through her veins once more, it was hopeless. It had been too long, and she remembered too little.

"I should commend you for your attempt at resistance, but it is futile." She felt its magic batter at her shield, the spell wavered under its assault yet managed to hold firm.

"How many more people need to die for you before you will give in to me? First your family, then Marvel, now your  _ friends _ ? Are their lives so meaningless to you?" It taunted her, trying to lure her out.

She considered for a moment surrendering herself for the others; bartering her life for theirs like Yon had tried earlier. But that's what it wanted, for her to give herself up. It would just kill the others once her body was lying cold on the floor at its feet, then it would move on, go after the sanctuary, slaughter everyone until there was nothing left but its unchecked power.

The thought of little Monica being another of the millions who had died at this thing's hand, galvanized something in her. This wasn't about her, it never had been. 

Carol let her emotions go, the pain, the guilt, the reservations at her own purpose and abilities. She stopped trying to control herself, to remember half forgotten spells that she had never really been that good at. Instead she closed her eyes and let her power flow through her.

She rose slowly from behind the altar, fist clenched and a determined set to her shoulders. This was it. All or nothing. She turned toward the creature that had ruined her life, if nothing else came of this she at least was not going down without a fight.

“Well if you want me...” she goaded, as she lowered the shield and jumped the altar, “then come and get me.”

The Supreme released its grip on the others, casting them aside to focus all its attention on Carol. It lunged for her, appendages curled towards her, like a spider attacking a defenseless insect in its web. 

Except Carol wasn't defenceless. She opened her arms wide and let herself explode, pushing everything she had, everything she felt from her core towards the encroaching shadow. A beautiful ethereal glow emanated from her, it was blinding. She glowed so bright, with so much power, it was if the sun itself was burning inside of her. She wrapped her power around the creature, encasing it in a column of swirling light. It shrank back trying to escape, but it was no use. A blood curdling screech came from the Supreme as her celestial light poured from her and pierced its shadowy form. 

The church around them began to tremble as the two forces battled for dominance. It was no use, she was too strong, her raw power incinerating the Supreme. Its smoky form turning to ash before her eyes.

As Carol reigned her powers in, she felt for traces of the Supreme, to make sure it truly was gone. When she was sure that it was over, that the Supreme was really dead, she looked to the others, hoping she had not hurt them in the process. Without a moment to lose, she dashed to Maria's side and hovered over her. "Are you ok?"

Maria gulped for air, clutching at her throat, unable to believe they'd actually survived. "You did it!" she managed to croak out as she smiled up at Carol. 

Carol beamed back, unable to believe it herself. She looked over at the others; Talos was fussing over a small tanned woman who continued to bat his hurried touches away, whilst Fury helped another woman to her feet. They all looked worse for wear but they were alive.

"Marvel would be proud of you. I'm proud of you." Maria praised her, beaming at her friend's victory.

"Quit being cheesy!" Carol joked back, and swept her best friend into a well deserved hug.

Neither witch noticed the looming shadow approach them, or the weapon raised above their head, poised to strike.

Not until she heard the tell tale sound of metal piercing flesh, and felt hot blood trickle down her arm.

She looked up, towering over her and Maria stood the Bishop Ronan. He was covered in soot and dust, a holy blade in his hand, aimed to strike her down. Protruding from his chest was the hilt of Yon's sword; Yon stood beside her, shielding her from the Bishop. He'd saved her.

The Bishop glared at Yon with betrayal. A sadistic look crossed his face, and before either of them could react, Ronan pierced Yon's side.

"No!" she screamed. With a blast of magic she sent Ronan flying, and leapt up to catch Yon as he collapsed to his knees.

Noises echoed through the hall as the shouts of other Hunters could be heard approaching from outside.

"Go!" he ordered her.

"No! You're injured. I won't leave you." Her voice trembled at the thought of him dying, she didn't have the energy to curse her treacherous heart for still caring.

He clutched his side. "I'll manage, but you'll be killed. Go," he ground out, his face distorting from the pain.

"Carol," she heard Maria urgently call for her.

"But they'll…" she let the words hang between them, she couldn't speak them aloud. He grabbed her hands and gently tried to nudge her away from him.

"It's as much as I deserve,” he confessed to her. He was resigned to his fate and it broke her heart.

She raised her hand to his cheek, willing her tears not to spill. She couldn't let him see her cry. He nuzzled her palm briefly, before his eyes moved to look over her shoulder.

She felt firm fingers grasp her arms, and the gruff voice of Talos urging her to listen. "We have to go,  _ now _ !" The shifter pulled her to her feet and she let him.

They headed for the exit, the doors blown wide and the remains hung off their hinges. Maria stood at the door, hand outstretched for her. Carol looked over her shoulder one final time at the ruins of Vers' life and the man who had been her trusted and constant companion. He met her gaze with a mix of relief and sorrow, a bleak smile forming when he saw her do as he had asked.  _ Leave me. _

Carol took Maria's warm hand in her own, smiling though she was pretty sure it didn’t reach her eyes. "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's from me.  
> I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing.  
> A huge thanks to everyone with their support on this.  
> A special shout out to CaptainCinderBella who patiently put up with my ridiculous ideas and incessant questions. If I haven’t scared you off I’d love to do this again.  
> Pandora-Cleo signing off!


	7. Resolutions

**One week later**

Yon paced in his chamber, restlessly going over his options for at least the hundredth time. He did not worry for his safety, or Vers' - _no, Carol's -_ at this point. They had both had their worlds shattered. But while she had retreated with her allies, he had remained behind to face the confusion, despair, and anguish left among his astrabellator brothers and sisters at the sight of the ruined cathedral, and the dead Bishop.

He would not lie to them, nor could he tell them the truth. Not that he had to, no one would suspect him. He was blessed to have survived, the healer had said as his wounds were stitched.

Now, days later, he had slowly begun to take charge of things in the abbey, as was expected of the highest ranking living Astrabellator. He was the new Supreme, though he refused the title. He would never allow such blindness to rule them again. Everybody expected a counter attack against the witches who had nearly destroyed them. But they would not get one, not if Yon had something to say about it. 

Some form of resolution was necessary, however, but how do you repent decades of wrongdoing, murder and lies? He rubbed his forehead, raking his hand through his hair, sighing deeply at the dilemma before him. Part of him missed the way things had been with the Supreme and the next second he hated himself for it. He had to be well and truly twisted to miss the person - creature - that had murdered his parents. 

At the depths of his mind, a dark, slithering panic began to wriggle itself upward, winding its cold, tight grip around his chest. Suddenly his breathing came in short, stuttering bursts. He recognized the signs; the panic attacks he had thought were something long conquered - he had not had one since he was fifteen - were back. And this was but the latest instance of it during the last days.

He knew how to deal with them; controlled breathing, repeating the same soothing mantra over and over, moving over into a loving prayer for the souls of his parents. Only now, the words made his eyes sting and his body alight with helpless anger, and no calm was to be found once he regained control of himself. Only despair.

“Control,” he commended himself in a desperate whisper, just as someone knocked on the door.

"General," Minerva said on the other side.

"Come in." He forced his voice to be even, unaffected.

She promptly stepped inside, a concerned look on her face. "What is troubling you?" Blunt as always, when they were alone. For all her venom when it came to Vers, Minerva was good at heart and he knew her aversion for the other woman only bottomed in earnest concern for him. If there was anyone he could share his thoughts with, it should be her.

"We have to be better," he opened, not sure what level of honesty he should aim for. She gave him a confused look. "We are meant to do God's work. I fear in our strife to do so, our minds have been overtaken by fear, and our hearts hardened because of it."

She read between the lines and her voice was flat, with a hint of criticism. "You don't want to retaliate."

"No."

Minerva seems to consider this. Then she muttered, "You mean we should turn the other cheek? It is not something that will work on witches."

He gave her a pointed look. "No? And what if witches are as human as we are?"

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. She sputtered, "General!" Then, a moment after the initial outrage, she added, softer, "You feel guilty about Vers."

That was certainly part of it, but Yon did not want Minerva to think him ruled by whimsy personal feelings. His guilt towards Vers’ wasn’t new. His perspective was. And when he spoke, he did so calmly.

"Consider this: _We_ took her from her family." Like he had been taken. "If we hadn't, none of this would have happened. We did this."

She shook her head, bewilderment and sorrow on her face. "But Yon… what about your parents..." 

Yon had to use every ounce of willpower to stop himself from flinching. The words came from him before he could think better of it, powered by an overwhelming urge to put into words the truth that was currently splintering his mind. "My parents were _murdered_ , for no other reason than what they were."

At her confused stare, he clarified, “My parents were witches, Minn. That’s why they died.” 

A sympathetic, concerned look from her made him feel as if he was once again a ten year old, awakened from a nightmare. He didn’t like that feeling. She soothed, “I’m sure the Supreme only meant to spare you, Yon. It’s not an easy truth to bear, but your parents’ sin is not yours.”

For a moment, rage gripped his heart, but at the very last moment before lashing out at her - with his words, his fists, his authority - he stopped himself. He had to be better. He _was_ better. And he already knew what he had to do.

Alienating Minerva and the rest of the astrabellators would not change the past, or improve their chance of a better future. But even if he could not make them see things as he did now, he had a responsibility to turn things around, to help them find their way back to God and true goodness. Come to think of it, he was hardly the first mortal to be given such a thankless task, but he would shoulder it, even if a sinking feeling in him grew at the realization of just how lonely it would be.

He briefly contemplated his other option: Leave the astrabellators and find Carol. With her help, maybe he could find any remaining shards of truth about what really happened to his family. He didn’t have to remain here, confused and weighed down by duty and penance. But what would she think of him? He hesitated. She hadn’t wanted to leave him behind but there was a big leap between hoping he wouldn’t get killed, and welcoming him as a friend and ally. He hung his head, the mild lie coming easily to him. 

“You’re right, Minn. I’m just upset. I should not burden you with these thoughts.”

“I don’t mind,” she said softly, approaching him but stopped at an appropriate distance. “We are all lost right now. We must find strength in our faith, in God.”

“Tell the others I will be there shortly.” 

It was time to forget the past, and focus on the future, he decided. Getting consumed by painful memories he could not change was pointless, and so he would not speak of his parents again. He would lock the memory away and instead focus on his duty. He would assume control of every part of his life, and be the leader his people needed.

***

Carol was dreaming, surprised at the clear realization. She was in a child’s bedroom. It was dark, a quiet night. The details were blurred, out of her reach, but the feeling, the knowing was there. Stark fear rushed through her at the same time the bed rustled and a boy sat up straight, switching on his bedside lamp. 

“Mom? Dad?” he asked.

A crashing sound downstairs made the boy startle again. He looked to be about ten, with sandy, medium short hair ruffled from sleep. He had a spiderman pyjamas and the bedding had a planets and stars pattern, with the word _space_ and _heroes_ written here and there. With a heartfelt pang, she realized who he was.

“Yon?” Her throat choked on the name. He seemed confused as to where the sound of her voice came from, but then a pained yell from downstairs made him leap from his bed and bound to the door, flinging it open. 

With her pulse in her throat, she followed, her stomach in a knot of fear for what she suspected she would witness. The boy came to a halt on the stairs, staring down at the hallway below. A light and a shout came, and a woman’s anguished voice ordered him to run. He didn’t listen; of course he didn’t. Carol pursued the boy downstairs and into the kitchen.

A dark looming shadow of the Shade, the very same she had fought days ago, seemed to engulf the room, swallowing it in its darkness. Instinctively, Carol reached for her magic but in this place, she was powerless, a passive bystander. 

Yon’s mother lay motionless on the floor, another man - his father, Carol presumed - was already dead beneath the Shade. But there was a third person here, standing ready to defend the family and the boy. A mortem witch with power already sparkling at his fingertips, and grim determination on his face. He turned to look at Yon and Carol’s shock was what made her wake up.

The man was Fury. Younger, but undoubtedly the same person.

Carol checked her watch. It was not yet midnight. She scrambled from the bed and walked unsteadily into the common room, sinking down in an armchair, trying to understand what had just happened. Her skin prickled, her emotions seemed to rise and fall with an outside influence not of her control. Yon. 

He was distressed, and through their bond, she shared those feelings. The bond had never affected her like this before, but then her powers had been choked down by the Supreme to an absolute minimum. Then, suddenly, she felt an itching burn around her neck and a heavy thump against her chest, and everything was suddenly still, his presence gone. He must have put on his star, she realized with a swift glance at the clock; it was morning in Britain.

A crushing wave of loneliness fell over her. She shouldn’t miss it, miss _him_. It had to be Stockholm syndrome, she rationalized. In time, she would forget him. If only she could be rid of the pesky bond somehow, but already she knew it didn’t work that way. If you had once shared blood, there was no going back except if you killed that person. And that, she already knew, was out of the question.

“When life gives you lemons...” she sighed. There had to be some way of controlling this... thing... between them. Tomorrow, she would ask Maria about it. Her bond to Yon was no secret, after all.

A harder nut was the fact that, she realized with an equal amount of dread and astonishment, it seemed that Yon was Fury’s godson. How would the man deal with that information? That Yon wasn’t just some random anonymous adoptee or servant in the order but the goddamn leader of the witch killing squad? Of course, she had known that Yon had grown up in the order’s orphanage, so he was obviously somebody’s missing son. But she could never have imagined this scenario. Neither could Fury, she suspected. It might be wise to let things settle, before dumping yet another shock on everybody. 

She admitted, a selfish part of her didn’t want to tell Fury because she didn’t want to face Yon again so soon. She needed distance, she told herself, to find herself again after years of memory loss and… other things she preferred not to think too closely about. Things that awoke intense feelings of self disgust and guilt. Things that made her scarcely able to meet the gaze of most people in the Sanctuary.

With a groan, she went to the kitchen to make some mint tea and then attempt to sleep again. Hopefully without interruptions this time.

Next morning, she approached Maria. Her friend was in the kitchen, where she and Monica were making breakfast for the rest. Everyone shared kitchen duty, and today it was their turn.

“Hey,” Carol greeted, voice a little hushed to indicate that she was looking for a private conversation. Monica waved at her and was already on her way with a plate stacked with scrambled eggs and greasy toast, to the dining room. Carol took the girl’s place next to Maria, slicing tomatoes and peppers. 

“Morning,” Maria said happily. “Rough night? You’re usually an early riser.”

“Yeah, well…” Carol grumbled. “I woke up at midnight. Not of my choosing. Thing is…” she stumbled on the words, not really knowing why. The blood sharing hadn’t been her fault or choice, so why be embarrassed about it? Maria already knew. “The bond affects me more now.”

Maria pursed her lips, nodding. She understood very well what it meant to have your mind invaded by unwelcome influence, Carol knew.

“I have thought about that,” Maria said grimly. “I can teach you some wards and how to raise a kind of mental barrier.” She looked severely at Carol, her face full of compassion. “But there’s no way to undo it. To some extent, you’ll always be vulnerable to him.”

“I know,” Carol said quickly, unwilling to divulge into more detail on the subject as Talos entered the kitchen, followed by Fury. The two men greeted them swiftly. Carol’s eyes lingered on Fury as he filled the coffeemaker. They were talking about a portal to Fury’s relatives in London, and he seemed anxious to be able to travel there, now that the more acute threat from the Hunters was no more.

“You’ll have to set up a portal a few kilometers away at least,” Talos warned. “I don’t want anything that could tip off the Hunters, lead them practically to our doorstep.”

Carol was hardly listening as Maria with a low voice explained the theory behind mental barriers, and that she could train Carol by actively trying to probe her feelings. “If you’re ok with that?” Maria finished. Carol startled, realizing Maria was looking at her, expecting an answer. 

“Sure. Sounds good.” She made a hasty retreat, needing to gather her thoughts. Make a plan. For what she wasn’t sure. 

She walked through the dining room where a half a dozen people were gathered and digging into porridge and eggs, but no one except Monica looked at her. She knew why. The averting eyes and hesitation from others was as, if not more, obvious as overt anger and distrust. It did not matter that she was as bereft of her old life and family as they were; to them, she was a hunter turned witch. A killer who had yet to redeem herself in their eyes.

It would get better, she told herself. She would find friends here. She would find peace and purpose. She kept repeating that hope over and over in her mind as she exited the house and started running. She imagined Yon running beside her, and eventually, as her lungs burned and her legs began to ache, she found a little peace.

**Six months later**

“Brrrr!” Carol exclaimed, stomping the snow off her boots inside the door. “It’s cold!” She handed her armload of firewood over to Soren.

“March can be pretty brutal this far north,” Soren agreed. “Come, have some hot chocolate.” 

Carol gave a delighted sound and swiftly unbundled herself, leaving her clothes in a messy pile on the side in the hallway. She could dry them instantly later with some water magic. As her repertoire of spells grew, more and more everyday tasks and problems were replaced with magic. She admitted to herself that she found an almost decadent pleasure in using her gifts as much as possible, because it made her feel like she was being naughty. The thought made her snicker as she entered the common area.

Around the long table, various activities were taking place. Monica and some other kids were playing an enchanted board game, nicknamed _Jumanji,_ though far more benign. Maria and Veda were mending socks - unfortunately there was no such thing as a ‘textile witch’, though simple spells could help with small things, like unfurling a tangled thread. Tank was sleeping in an armchair in front of the fire with the youngest kid, a six year old, tucked into her lap. 

Soren immediately threw one log on the fire and dropped the rest in the dwindling firewood stack at the side. Talos came into the room from the kitchen carrying two cups of steaming chocolate, frowning as he saw Soren carrying the wood. Carol smiled. Even before Soren had spilled the beans about her pregnancy, they had all known, thanks to the shifter's incessant hovering.

With only her friends present, the atmosphere was so cozily familiar it felt like sinking into a plush, warm armchair. She gratefully accepted a cup from Talos and sat down on the floor beside Maria, stretching her cold numbed feet towards the fire. They spoke of this and that, of coming projects, the coming season, and the opportunities that arose now that they felt they could safely come and go to the Sanctuary as they pleased. 

Maria's head suddenly jerked up from her work, and Carol felt the same presence an instant later. Whenever someone entered the Sanctuary, Maria instantly knew; she frequently referred to herself as a 'human doorbell'. Carol wasn't as attuned just yet, but she was slowly growing into her clairvoyant power as well.

“They’re back?” Carol asked. They were expecting Fury and his mother back this afternoon. Maria nodded. 

"Excellent!" Soren cheered. "I'll go meet them."

Talos grunted, "It's a bloody snowstorm outside. I'll go."

The druidess rolled her eyes at him but didn't protest. The weather was not pleasant.

A while later, Fury and his mother, who's name was Rita but wanted to be called Fury as well, appeared. 

"Furiosa!" Tank exclaimed. The old woman gave the witch a stern glare, but Tank only laughed. She constantly tried to change Rita's nickname to that of a movie character of some action flick, but the old woman was not impressed. 

After everyone had greeted the mother and son properly, they gathered in front of the fire to share what news they had. Their communication with the outside world was limited, but not as completely cut off as before. Every so often, a couple of witches left to visit others, get supplies or to just be able to communicate with other witches via spells and others via modern world IT. Fury and his mother had been traveling to Europe via the newly erected travel portal, situated a good walk away from the Sanctuary, to reconnect with some relatives.

Carol didn’t ask any questions. She had still not told him about Yon. It had never seemed the right moment. Fury didn’t know she knew, and neither did Yon, so perhaps there was a way to make this work in a way that didn’t make her look like the villain for keeping that information from everyone.

Fury's voice cut through her pondering, "...began to appear out of nowhere. The Monroes got their niece back - _three years_ after she disappeared. And three more children have reappeared in different locations in London. Every case was just coincidence. But together…" he inferred. Carol understood; _together_ it meant something more. For some reason, children that had been abducted by the Hunters were returned to their magic or non-magic relatives. 

"I wonder what they think they're up to…" Talos grumbled, clearly sceptical.

“Hey Fury,” Carol said, startling everybody by suddenly taking part in the conversation. “What is the full name of your godson?”

Fury’s face became distant with sadness and he sighed. “John. John Rogg.”

Talos suddenly tensed up. Carol’s eyes flashed to the shifter, and she realized; Talos had shifted to Yon’s likness! He knew! He had known all along. They locked eyes for a few more moments, until Carol cocked a speculative eyebrow. Talos turned his glare away, scowling.

Making an effort to seem untroubled, Carol looked sympathetically at Fury, same as everybody else.

“Do you have a theory about the children, Carol?” Soren asked. 

“I don’t know,” Carol hedged. “It’s possible they have new directives.”

“I guess time will tell,” Maria said, smoothing over everybody’s speculation, but her eyes were on Carol and Talos. Naturally she had noticed their reactions. Carol skimmed her mind to try and remember if she had ever mentioned Yon’s full name to anyone, but realized she probably hadn’t. To her, he was just Yon.

The deception had to end, she decided. If Yon wanted to return children to their families, it would be selfish of her to deny him the same.

Hours later, long after dark had settled, she cast a silencing spell and prepared to sneak outside, to the unused shed she used as a practice space. But as she neared the front door, strong hands pulled her to the side. 

"Don't hit me," Talos hissed in her ear, tugging her with him down the cellar stairs.

"What the hell Talos?!" she hissed back, jerking herself free.

The low light cast his face in an eerie shadow but his expression was that of concern. He lifted his hands, trying to placate her. "We need to talk." 

"What about?" She rubbed her wrist and upper arm.

"You know what."

She narrowed her eyes at him. Yeah, she knew alright. She had planned to not involve Talos but now it seemed he had chosen differently. She hissed, not caring to hide her irritation; "You knew all along, but you didn't tell Fury. Some friend you are." She gave him a shove, and he instantly retaliated with a shove of his own, pointing an angry finger at her.

"This isn't about being a friend.” He struggled to keep his agitated voice hushed. "His beloved little godson is a murdering fucking Hunter. I can name _at least ten_ people in this place who have lost someone, friend or family, at his hands."

"He didn’t know, the same as I didn’t!" Carol protested, but her conviction wavered even as she uttered the words. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what Yon knew and didn’t. In a matter of days, the man who had been her closest friend for years went from just that, to her enemy, to a doubtful ally with potentially hidden motives.

Talos shook his head, sounding adamant. "Doesn't matter. You aren't in a position to make this decision for the rest of us."

"What decision?"

"To invite your hunter boyfriend."

Carol sputtered, "My what?!"

"I'm no idiot Carol, even if I hadn't worn Yon's skin, I can see what's in front of me. Same as everyone else who was there. The looks you two give each other…" He tsked.

She felt a hot rush of shame, but an equal amount of anger flared at the same time. "That's so easy for you to say, now, isn't it? You got everything you want, right here. How long will you let Fury wait? And if you could forgive me for what I’ve done…"

He snorted. "You're different and you know it."

"Am I?" She tilted her head. "I was an astrabellator. I killed, Talos, and I'm dealing with that every day, with the fact that aside from my closest friends, nobody wants me here. Now that the dust has settled, everyone has begun to realize what I am." Despite her annoyance in him, she felt tears rise. She swallowed them back with a growl.

"And what is that?" He said, gentler now. 

"A- a murderer." She angrily wiped her eyes.

"We've been through this. You're not them."

"But Yon is? His parents were witches. They were killed by the Supreme. And now that he knows the truth, I think... he is trying to fix things, and... “ She hated the pleading tone she had inadvertently slipped into. She didn’t mean to exonerate Yon of the Hunters’ crimes, she didn’t want to overlook any of it, but still her heart broke every time she remembered his voice, the look on his face, when asked her to save herself - and leave him behind. “He is all alone.”

Talos took a patient breath and looked upward as if asking for advice from a higher power. As if she was being completely unreasonable.

A spark of anger firmed her voice and she crossed her arms, reminding him, "If Yon wanted to find me he could do so at any time."

"He has no magic," Talos muttered. "The blood bond makes him more vulnerable than you, he just doesn't know it."

"That doesn't disprove my point. If you’re scared that I will lead him here, I would have to leave." This possibility was one she has considered many sleepless nights. He regarded her grimly and nodded, albeit reluctantly. Sensing she might just have won the argument, she added with a wink and a shrug, "And you know me; I'm always careful."

Talos lip twitched. "You most certainly are not." 

“Okay… maybe not. But my point is, there’s no additional risk that we aren’t already taking by me simply being here. Please. I _need_ to do this. I have to… “ _Face him_ is a bit dramatic, isn’t it? “Talk some things out. If only just once.”

“I... think I understand,” he conceded, less emotional and more pragmatic now. “In addition, see if you can pry out information on what is going on there. If he likes you as much as he did then, you’ll certainly have some… leverage.” He added the last part with a humored lilt.

“Shut up.” She punched his shoulder. It was a pretty solid blow but as a shifter, Talos healed fast.

He raised his hands in surrender, backing one step, but still smirked. “Okay, I get it. Hunter boyfriend isn’t a topic of conversation…” She raised her fist again. He bit his mouth shut but she could see that he struggled not to snigger. It was painfully obvious that her reaction only served to fuel his teasing.

“Asshole.”

“My lady.”

“Ugh…” She shoved past him and went up the stairs, then slipped out into the frosty night.

***

Yon slept uneasy. He always did nowadays. The dim light of early dawn was visible through the blinds, and he groaned realizing how little was left of the night, bunched the pillow together with frustrated, jerky movements and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could force himself asleep this way. At least, he thought, he might let his body rest even if his mind kept spinning, repeating the same thoughts and arguments, over and over with the same useless result each time: Nothing he could think of doing would ever absolve him of the crushing guilt that hung over him. Nothing he could do was enough. He wasn’t enough.

The morning light had begun in earnest to creep into his quarters when a familiar sensation jolted him from his half slumber. His heart skipped and he wasn’t even tired anymore.

“Vers?”

He sprung to his feet and went for the door, expecting a knock any moment, then stopped. The feeling wasn't the same as before. Not so much a tug as an… enveloping presence.

A gold shimmer filled the room, gathering and molding into a human shape. Out of nowhere, Vers stood there, her appearance only disturbed by the faint gold shimmer that emanated from somewhere inside her. She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her chin up.

“My name is Carol,” she corrected him, but there was no anger behind the words, just a statement. Her hair was wind blown, cheeks rosy from cold. She was lovely. In an unkept, ruffled sort of way.

Yon became aware that his mouth was hanging ajar, and promptly closed it. “It _is_ you.” 

She huffed out a chuckle, then scoffed. “Yeah! Who did you expect?”

As if he wasn't talking to a golden apparition appearing in his bedroom at crack of dawn, he commented, somewhat stern now, "Do you know what time it is?"

"Can't sleep.” She shrugged.

He sighed, absently scratching his neck. It felt oddly familiar to see her like this, despite knowing the distance between them, as if it was just like any other conversation. He even thought he could recognize her scent, along with some fire smoke and wet wool. He wondered if he could touch her, or would his hands move through her? 

Touch her. His mind froze at that, terrified and thrilled at the same time at what that wish implied.

She broke the awkward silence. "Thank you for returning the children to their families."

“It was the right thing to do.” 

“Yes. It was.”

He looked up at her, again studying her form. She was the same, but wilder, more relaxed. “Do you see me as well?” He was pretty sure the view of him wasn't something to behold. He must look miserable, sleep deprived and worn down by a thousand constant worries.

“Yes. But only you can see and hear me, and vice versa."

“Can all witches do this?”

“Some can. But you need to have an anchor, or... a bond.” Her eyes flitted away at that last word. “I can feel a lot from you actually, unless you have the star on. That kinda… blocks things. But you knew that already.”

He shivered but not uncomfortably so. It was a warm tingle now, a firm awareness that comforted more than anything else. They had said that giving her his blood would let her sink her claws into him, that he put himself at risk for the greater good. But it had not been what he had felt, watching his blood enter her. Instead, he had imagined a golden thread winding itself around his heart, latching on to his soul. He had belonged to her from that moment. Not the other way around.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, a little breathless. It was the truth. If this was the only opportunity to tell her, he had to take it. At least, that would be one less regret to haunt him. “For everything.”

"I know." There was nothing mocking in her tone. "I wanted to tell you that…" she seemed to be looking for words, instead opting to ask, "Did you find out if you had any remaining family, aside from your parents?"

No. Not that again. He knew she probably meant well but… no. His reply was curt. "You know this already. I have no one.”

"But… what if there was someone?"

He forcefully pushed back the ache that rose in his chest. Coolly, his feigned indifference more a reflex than conscious choice, he replied, "You'll have to be a little more specific than that."

Carol groaned impatiently. "Okay I'll just skip the 'easing in'-part then: You have a living breathing godfather. One who never stopped looking for you, even when literally everyone told him it was too late."

Her words hammered into him like icy shards, leaving him speechless. A godfather? A flash of a memory went through his mind. A smiling man, a friend of his parents. But then, the night everything changed…

_Control._

"Yon," Carol continued, sounding far away from the depths of the rising panic inside him. "I saw him. You dream of him."

Yes but… The man Yon had dreamt of was a crazed warlock who murdered his parents to feed his thirst for power. His mind balked and spun as he tried to envision that man as anything else. A panicky noose tightened around his chest. Sweat made his shirt cling to him even as his heartbeat raced in response to her words. 

"You see my dreams?" The question came out as an accusation.

"Before I learned to block them out, yes." She was apprehensive now, shifting her weight between her feet. “I didn’t mean to…”

"Good." She visibly flinched at his terseness. “I don't care what you think you saw, Carol, but that was just a dream."

“I want to help you, Yon.” Hurt and some anger laced her words now.

That moment, he truly splintered. Part of him was yelling at him to talk to her, to tell her everything, to seek his closest friend’s comfort and trust. 

_I’m sorry Carol. This is hard for me to talk about. Since I learned the truth, everything in me is a mess. I’m struggling every day to remain sane, to serve the greater good. To seek some form of absolution for the things I’ve done. And I miss you so much it breaks me._

But the part of him that wanted to say these things was not the strongest. Years of training had assured he would never let sentiment or feelings cloud his judgement.

“I know you mean well,” he said in a more facilitating tone even as he closed a mental door on his heart's desire. “But the last thing I need right now, is another thing stirring up trouble.”

“This isn’t trouble!” she yelled, angry now. “Oh, to hell with it. Here I thought I was being all noble but I’m done with that now. Do you think this is easy for me, Yon? That I’m doing this to torment you? Let me remind you that I did not choose this!” She pointed angrily between them. “You did. You did all of this. So don’t you dare look at me as if I owe you something.”

He didn’t offer an answer, because truly, he had none. 

“Was there anything else?” he heard the dismissal in his voice, and it hurt him almost as much as her. For a moment, he saw her expression fall into that of complete heartbreak, before she promptly closed off. Good, he forced himself to think. He needed distance from this, from _her_ , and he needed it now. 

She considered him a moment. "No. Sorry for caring."

Then she was gone.

And he felt lonelier than he had in all the days since she disappeared, because this time, it was his own fault entirely. A trembling hand found his astrabellator star, clutching it hard, before putting it on.

***

Carol hardly felt the icy wind as she made her way back to the house, her feet only momentarily hindered by the large snow drifts gathering on the front steps. All that anticipation, the anxiety - for nothing. Yon didn’t care for her. She had just been a tool, a weapon. Now that she was of no use to him, the bond with her was a mere nuisance. He wanted nothing to do with her, or her world, or what remained of his family. Yon had made his choice then and there in the cathedral, she realized. She had believed at the time, like the naive fool she was, that it was _her_ safety he was worried about, but no. It was his.

A dreadful question grew in her, wondering if, indeed, he had _ever_ truly cared for her. Perhaps Talos had gotten it wrong. Shifting impressions weren’t impeccable; they were always interpreted through the lens of the shifter’s opinions and prejudice. That had had to be the case this time.

She thankfully didn't run into anyone as she entered the house. She fell onto her bed and threw another swift silencing spell around herself, before she buried her face into her pillow, and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was totally meant to be the final chapter, but pretty soon after I began writing I realized that if I crammed every bit of story arc into it, it would either become really, reeeaally long, or I would have rush the end of the story.
> 
> So, still one to go. But that will be the last one. Promise. 
> 
> /Cinderbella


	8. Resolutions (part 2)

Since he and Carol spoke six months ago, Yon had hardly felt the stirrings of the bond. Granted, he wore the star at all times, but even with it he could usually feel something from her, if only a sense of presence. In its stead was now a dull static. She had closed him out, leaving only a trickle of their former connection; the minimum connection that no magic was able to erase.

Luckily, he didn’t have much time to think about it; there was simply too much to do. His days were a flurry of decision making, lobbying and research into old texts and the holy book, scrutinizing every word, every argument that could be used to sway the different branches of their order. Convincing the Astrabellators was the easy part. The other bishops, scholars and priests, however, needed more convincing.

His idea was simple, yet radical: Witches were not inherently evil, he declared. The Supreme had died, yes, but with it their 'blessed leader' had burned away the lingering evil and therefore witches were now as free as any other mortal to choose their path. Each lie tasted bitter in his mouth, but the fact that he had been lied to his entire life eased his conscience.

There were still supernatural evils to be fought, after all. Witches were not nearly the only magical beings in the realm of humans, but their narrow focus on magically adept humans had let many other threats slip. That would change now.

But once the pieces were set in motion, and things began to work on its own accord, the echoing emptiness became a distraction. He began to fantasize about meeting Carol again, but each time he tried to imagine their conversation he couldn’t form a single word. He had dismissed her, and her offer, her world. It had made sense then. No, actually it hadn’t. But it had been too much, too soon.

He was no witch, he didn’t have an ounce of magic in his blood, despite his parentage. He could not wield the power of the blood bond as she could. But there was one thing he could do; find her. 

In the moment the idea came to him, the normally static pull of the bond gave an excited little trill, as if to urge him on.

***

Harvest was a busy time in the Sanctuary. Even with spells to help, they all worked to gather day in and out to preserve and store a wide array of crops; fruits, grain, herbs, seeds and much much more.

Even though they now had the possibility to travel outside, the Sanctuary was already a self sustaining unit that had to be kept running. Otherwise, if they would one day need their independence again it would take years to rebuild, Soren reasoned. Carol didn't mind the work, or the many opportunities to try out her new abilities. For better or worse.

The kids _had_ loved the talking rabbits but then everyone decided in unison that there was no way they could possibly eat the animals after that. Regardless if Carol reversed the spell. She promised to be more thoughtful after that. Except, well, when she pranked Talos by making every tool and instrument switch places whenever he thought of them, ending up looking for things for half a day until Soren took mercy on him. Or when Carol made salamanders spring from his last pack of cigarettes as he lit them, causing a small wildfire that - luckily - Rita was there to promptly put out.

The pranks between her and Talos was sorts of a friendly extension of their initial animosity. But more fun. Because unlike Maria, Talos could take a joke. Although, Carol had been pretty angry when he convinced every mouse in the little settlement to camp out in her bedroom. It took days to wash and weather out the smell of rodent piss.

With time, Carol also began to feel more at home. The occasional angry glares she received from others thawed into apprehension, then acceptance. One after another, the other witches began to approach her, sometimes with questions, sometimes to ask for help due to Carol's wide range of magical abilities.

Now and then, she revisited the bond to Yon, lowering her mental guards, gently prodding the connection. But as she felt nothing from him - his Astrabellator star constantly blocking her - these moments became rarer until she eventually stopped.

It was late September and they were busy getting the last load of apples indoors before the first frost. Sure, spells could prevent frost from ruining a harvest but, as Soren liked to point out, for every time they messed around with nature, they risked creating a new problem as much as they were solving the present one. 

The morning went by and by the time it was lunch, everyone except Carol and Maria had gone to eat. Just as Carol reached for a fallen, bruised apple, her mind dashed to Yon, his face, his voice calling her name. She stopped mid motion, then shook her head and continued. But the thoughts would not give in and so, out of curiosity, she lowered her mental guard.

It was like a dam burst. The response was immediate. His presence washed over her with insistent reaching. 

_What the hell?_

Yon was close, she knew that with absolute certainty. Of course the deceptive bastard has masked his presence until now, when he was practically standing on her doorstep.

Trepidation, nervousness, and a not so small dose of doubt rose inside her. His feelings, she decided. _Just_ his. Because _she_ certainly did not feel _anything_ but annoyance, she told herself even as her stomach fluttered. 

She shifted uncomfortably, cautiously looking around.

"Earth to Carol," Maria joked. "Where's your head at?"

Carol jerked upright, instantly enforcing her mental guard again. "I was just thinking."

"About?" 

Carol's eyes snapped to Maria, frowning. "Are you scanning my feelings?"

Maria looked at her briefly, a bemused smirk growing, making Carol distinctly uncomfortable. "Well now that I am, the fact that I can't see a thing tells me that I am apparently a good teacher."

Carol made a non committal sound but Maria wasn't done.

"It also tells me you're probably thinking about Yon."

"What?!" she squeaked. "How do you…"

Maria's smile became more compassionate and less teasing. "I have eyes; I know that look. Wore myself a couple of times."

Of course she had, Carol winced inwards. Monica's father had left on journeys often, until one day he hadn't come back, declaring in a letter that he had no intention to return. Maria's heartbreak had been brief, but brutal.

"There's more than that," Carol confessed. "I think… I think he's _here."_

Maria looked around, and seeing no one near them, she said in a low voice, "Are you saying he's out there, waiting?" She pointed in the direction of the Sanctuary's exit.

"I think so." Her mouth was dry. It seemed a likely assumption. Maria's somber expression grew worried. If Yon was here, that could mean a number of things. Most of them bad. 

_A trap_ , a voice inside Carol warned. 

"Oh God…" Maria paled, imagining the possibilities. 

Carol lowered her guard again and honed in on the stream of feelings from Yon, trying to discern if there was anything that could point to danger. He was an incredibly capable fighter, much better than her with or without weapons. He was cunning and fast, and knew every weakness of his prey. But she felt none of the tense anticipation and toxic righteousness she associated with the moments before an onset.

"I don't think we have anything to worry about," Carol inferred carefully. The last thing she wanted was for Talos to find out. Whatever's Yon's intentions, such a confrontation could only end in violence.

"How do you know?" Maria asked.

She shrugged. "I can sense his mood. He doesn’t seem like he’s here for a fight."

That seemed to settle her friend. Anyone else might doubt Carol's judgement on that point, but Maria was the one that has trained her in this particular discipline.

"I’m gonna go out there, see what he wants," Carol decided. It was the only way to know for sure.

"Alone?" Maria frowned.

"Yes.” 

They looked at each other. Maria didn’t like what she was hearing, Carol could see that. “I’ll be careful,” she added. “I can defend myself, if needed.”

She sounded far more certain than she felt. Looking down at herself, Carol suddenly regretted her dirty, sun bleached clothes. She started walking towards the house to change. Then stopped, warring internally for a moment. Why should she care how she presented herself to him?

Almost as a statement to herself, to prove _very_ how little she cared, she turned on her heel the opposite way, and walked past a very confused looking Maria, towards the road to the border. Then she stopped again, looking at Maria.

"If I'm not back before sunset, let the others know."

"Sure you want to go alone?" Maria asked, worried.

"I’ll be fine."

"Okay. Be careful."

In an attempt to reassure her friend, she added with a wink, "I'll try not to hurt him."

Maria gave a small smile at that, and let her go without further protest.

By the time Carol reached the place where the Sanctuary's pocket world crossed over to the world outside, Yon's call had developed into a distinct tug. Carol reached her hand out, feeling the barrier give way under her touch. Hands trembling, she eased herself through.

On the outside, at that same meadow where they had faced off one year ago, stood Yon. He wore civilian clothes, jeans and an unzipped leather jacket over a plain gray t-shirt, his only weapon a holstered pistol and a knife. A pack was slung over his shoulder but judging from its size he must have driven most of the way. He was alone, she quickly concluded with a swift sweep of her magic.

He was clean shaven, hair trimmed, and eyes were bright gold in the afternoon sun. A small crucifix hung from a silver necklace, instead of his astrabellator star.

"Yon," she said by way of greeting, trying to sound assured.

"Carol." He nodded, then smiled wryly. "You heard me."

She frowned. "How long have you been here?"

He hoisted the backpack once. "Not long." He almost looked bashful. "I wasn’t sure how fast you would notice."

"Well, I heard you. Or, you know, so to say." Her heart raced but she kept her exterior guarded. He still hadn't explained what he was doing here. Though the mere idea that he had traveled here, following the tug of their bond, made it too easy to hope. There could be only two reasons, she figured. Either he was intent on killing her, undoing his past mistake and finally be free of all ties. Or maybe -

Her thoughts were interrupted as Yon pulled out something from an inner pocket, holding it out to her. An old photograph. "I am looking for someone."

She took it and saw… a family photo, taken on the stairs of what looked like a country manor. There was a man in his thirties who was the striking image of Yon, except for the eyes that were the same as the smiling woman hugging her son’s shoulders. The young version of Yon had sandy brown hair and serious bright golden eyes. Half a step behind the mother, stood a young Fury. Carol couldn’t stop staring at the image.

"Nicolas Fury was my parents friend," Yon said quietly, "and if I remember correctly, also my godfather."

Carol forced her gaze from the photo. In all the years, Yon had never shown it to her. When she looked up, he looked… ashamed. Regretful.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I understand if you want me to leave. But I needed to talk to you and well… I only knew one way to do that."

Carol let out a slow breath, gathering her wits, the facts slowly sinking in. Then came the outrage. "You came _here_ , to Canada?!" He nodded. "To find me?" Another nod. “Are you insane?”

"I had to talk to you. I didn’t like the way we parted.”

Simple. Honest. She didn’t know how to deflect that. 

He misinterpreted her frustration. Looking away, he gave a small nod. "I understand. I'll go. Give the photo to Fury, will you?" He turned to leave.

That finally broke her paralysis. "Yon!" He stopped, his back to her. "Stay? I-" She shook her head and tried to form words that somehow sounded dumb anyways. “I didn’t like it either. The way we parted, I mean. I’m sorry too.”

The look he gave her over his shoulder was so amazed that she realized he had fully expected her to send him on his way. Then he stalked over to her so fast that she took a reflexive step backward. His pack fell to the ground when he released it to instead take her face in his hands. For a moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t.

This was it. Her terrified heart trembled. Now he would tell her she was… evil. Wrong. It made no sense - he had traveled across half the world led only by their bond - but he was also a Hunter. He could never love her. His faith forbade him to even think it - even when she had been an Astrabellator.

So why were his hands on her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones? Why did he look at her mouth in that way, hesitant and yearning?

"I want to stay," he said.

Attempting a light tone, as if she didn’t fear rejection, she asked, “So what’s the catch?” There had to be a catch. 

He shook his head. “There’s no catch.”

She still didn’t entirely believe that. Unless..."Does that mean you left the Order?"

"There is no more Order, Carol. Or-" he amended wryly "-there _is,_ in a way. Just not as it was. The world needs those who will fight evil. But evil is determined by deeds, not doctrine."

She felt a trembling, chaotic grin spread across her face. Relief coursed through her with the knowledge that there were no more wars to be fought between them.

He continued, ever practical, still stroking her face with even, gentle movements, "I will have to return to England, of course. But I’d like to stay for a while. If you’ll have me.”

"So I might."

He smiled back then. Neither seems to know what to do now, but they slowly inched closer until their foreheads touched and noses brushed. Her hands came up to his hips, then inside his open jacket, feeling hard muscles and delicious heat through his shirt. 

“Carol…” The way he said her name this time could set her on fire. The restrained, prim General was suddenly gone, replaced by a needy, aching mortal. All those fleeting moments, every accidental - or perhaps not so accidental - touch replayed in Carol's mind, remembered acutely by each part of her body as if he’d left a burning mark every time.

"Maybe," she said, voice husky and low while she angled her head so their lips brushed, "we can let your godfather wait for a bit?"

He made a strangled noise in his throat and his grip on her tightened. 

They had waited long enough, she decided, and kissed him.

***

Magic could do a lot of things, Yon learned in the following hours. It could be destructive and lethal, as he was well acquainted with. But it could also make flowers and grass grow, leaves sprout, dry a damp patch of earth and create a blossoming, warm meadow.

Likewise, a blood bond wasn’t just a means to track the other down. The edges between them became smudged as she opened to him again, their desire twirling together until he couldn’t tell which was his or hers. And it did not matter either, as their inexperienced hands traced and learned, until they were both wrung out and sated.

Carol pulled him down to her. “You’re trembling,” she said, stroking his arms and shoulders.

“I’m good,” he rasped, still breathing heavily, floating in blissful shock. “I’m crushing you.”

She chuckled and nibbed at his ear. “You’ve pinned me on the training mat enough times to know I won’t break under you.”

He relaxed then but still tucked his elbows under him, relieving a little of his weight. A thought occurred to him.

“Was this your first time?” It had been his. 

She nodded, contently patting his shoulder. “But not last,” she added with a teasing lilt. “We’ll have to practice regularly, because I intend to become _very_ proficient.”

He grinned against her skin, “Always so impatient.” He nuzzled her neck, covering it with gentle kisses, and confessed softly, “I missed you. I love you.”

She drew a shuddering breath and hugged him tighter. “I…” she hesitated.

“You don’t have to,” he hushed. “I hurt you. A lot.”

“But I...” she whispered, a fragile note in her voice. “I just don’t know how to…”

He propped himself up to see her properly. She was serious now and it was unusual to see her like this, without even a hint of a smirk or scowl.

“What has happened is not your fault,” she said softly, lifting a hand - the one with the scar on her palm - to caress his face. He pressed his lips to the mark with the same reverence as he would the holy cross.

“That is not true. We all make choices, Carol. They might be hard, impossible even, but we make them. What happened is my fault too, even if my choice was an unfair one.”

The words came with surprising ease. He had thought of this so many times over that the notion of his share of guilt in the greater scheme of things no longer frightened him. Instead he welcomed it. Guilt was the gateway to penance, and he sought penance as much as he sought her love and forgiveness.

She watched him silently for a while, brown eyes radiant with that unyielding, celestial power inside her. “Well then,” she said at last. “I forgive you.”

***

It was sunset. Maria stood looking over the dirt road to the Sanctuary’s entrance, involuntarily wringing her hands. She hadn’t said anything to the others, knowing well the result of that information would be Talos marching out of the Sanctuary whether or not Carol had need of assistance. The grumpy shifter and Carol may seem like enemies to the outside eye, but Maria knew their bantering hid a fierce loyalty.

Just as the last ray of sunlight gave in, Carol emerged and Maria’s chest seemed to collapse with relief. There was a spring to Carol’s movements and she looked like she was struggling not to smile. She looked… happy, Maria realized. 

“There you are. I was just about to start worrying,” Maria lied. She’d been worrying constantly.

Carol chuckled, and again Maria was struck by how relaxed she was. A gentle prodding with her magic gave the same result. Carol wasn’t even hiding her emotions but glowed a warm reassuring golden with hints of red longing. “Sorry for cutting so close to our deadline. Where’s Fury? I have good news for him.”

“It’s Yon isn’t it? His godson.” Maria stated grimly.

“Yes.” Carol’s upbeat mood flagged somewhat. “Do you think that will be a problem?”

“A problem?” Maria half laughed. “He took you from us! He is a Hunter!”

Carol argued, “He was abducted and brainwashed as a child after his parents were killed.” Her frustration was obvious. “He’s no different from me.”

“Perhaps not,” Maria said, opting for a more pragmatic route. “It’s going to be hard to sell that version to the others, however.”

“I know. That’s why I’ll ask Fury to come to London, to meet over there instead. I just need to tell him before I leave with Yon.”

“You’re leaving?” A pang of worry made Maria raise her voice again. “Now?!”

Carol shrugged with one shoulder. “With the portal up, it’s no big deal. I’ll be back in a few days.”

Talos wasn’t going to like that, Maria knew. “We have to tell the others.”

“Really?” Carol made a face. “Couldn’t we just… be sneaky about it?” 

“You’re leaving alone with a man known as our enemy, whom you will show the location of a portal that basically leads to our doorstep.” Maria gave her a pointed look. 

Carol gave in. “Fine,” she grumbled. “But if Talos throws a tantrum it will be yours to deal with.”

Despite the complicated nature of the situation, Maria sensed contentment from Carol. Wholeness. Maybe, in time, it would be possible for her and Yon to heal together. Regardless of Maria’s own reservations towards the hunter, or ex-hunter or whatever he was now, she would do her friend the service of not being another obstacle on that journey.

***

“You’re out of your mind,” Talos growled, then turned to Maria. “Tell her she’s out of her mind!”

“I don’t make decisions for Carol,” Maria returned calmly.

Soren, who was sitting wide-legged on a haybale and supporting her massive belly with one hand and reclining back on the other, was looking seriously at Carol, her all-knowing green eyes studying her closely.

Fury was silent, deep in thought and unable to retract neither his gaze nor his attention from the photo Carol had given him. 

The five of them were alone in the hayshed behind the barn, away from everyone else who were having dinner in the main building.

“Well I damn well won’t let you do this,” Talos stepped towards Carol.

Carol straightened, giving him a level stare. “And who is going to stop me. You?”

“Please, Talos,” Fury interrupted. A deep furrow creased his forehead as he still looked at the picture in his hand. “There’s no need for this. I’ll go with her.”

“It is not Carol we are worried about,” Soren interjected. It was the first thing she’d said since Carol had explained everything. Again she turned her eyes to Carol. “You are taking a big risk in trusting this man.”

Carol replied dryly, “Having me here is a risk.”

“True,” Soren conceded. The druidess winced and pressed a hand below her rib where the baby was kicking. “But allowing him to return with knowledge of our location and how to find it is riskier.”

“The wards still work though?” Carol looked to Maria for confirmation. “He’ll forget the location, won’t he?”

"Not necessarily," Maria condoled. "He's got you. And we would like to be able to lower the wards some day; it's impractical."

“It’s a risk no matter what we do at this point,” Fury said. “Why don’t we go for the good old blindfold?” A humored murmur spread in the group. No one had even thought of that option. Fury continued. “We blindfold him, go to London, drive around town for a bit, and he won’t know where to even begin looking.”

Carol looked around to see if anyone objected to the plan, but even Talos seemed satisfied with it. And so it was decided. 

She went to her room, stuffed her rucksack full of clothes and bathroom items, and met with Maria and Monica outside their house. 

“Hey!” she said to the girl. “You can stop pouting. It’s just for a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Monica’s expression lightened and there was suddenly a glint in her eyes. “So… is he really your boyfriend?”

Carol looked accusingly between the two members of her family. “He is _not_ my boyfriend! What is it with everyone?”

“Talos says you’re in luuuuve,” Monica said in a sing-song voice.

“Well.” Carol smirked and poked Monica’s nose. “Talos is an old crook. And we’re just… dating. That’s right. Dating.” 

It seemed an appropriate word for their current relationship status, she thought. Just trying things out. Like having sex in enchanted clearings and confessing their desires and dreams to each other in breathy whispers. Everything about it was absolutely casual.

“Take care, love,” Maria said and hugged her.

“You too.”

It was completely dark when Carol and Fury met up with Yon. Fury wasn’t going to make the trip tonight. He was just there to make sure everything went according to plan, and to report back to Soren. 

The two men greeted each other hesitantly. Even more so when the blindfold was presented. Carol assured Yon that it was just a precaution, and that they meant him no harm. 

With Yon’s hand in a cramped grip around her own, Carol led him though the dark forest, their path lit by a conjured wisp. The portal was located between two rock formations and hidden from plain sight by illusion wards. 

They stepped through, and came out on the other side into a misty, damp early morning London.

***

The cemetery looked more like a forest interlaced with asphalt walkways to Carol. Most of the tombstones were so old, nature was well on its way to either overgrow or topple them over with tree roots and vines. Still, it had an eerie beauty to it. 

Yon led the way, holding two white lilies he’d purchased in the local flower store. The shopkeeper had greeted him as if this was a common occurrence.

His step was certain but through the bond, Carol felt his nervousness, making her heart race. In all their years as Astrabellators, he had never spoken of his parents, and, as a consequence, never mentioned where they lay buried. Still he didn’t hesitate for one step despite the maze they were obviously in.

The forest cleared up, and the ancient tombstones gave way to a more modern-looking cemetery setting, with grass and tidy rows of graves with well manicured flower beds. A tall man stood before one of the headstones two rows from the walkway, looking down at a grave’s writing. Fury. 

They made their way there. Carol didn’t know what to do exactly, so she remained a few steps behind. She was just the intermediator of this meeting. She had no part in Yon’s childhood history and it made her feel out of place. 

Fury looked up, a somber smile on his face. “Lilies. They were your mother’s favourite.”

Yon cast down his gaze. He looked like a little boy to Carol. Lost and homeless. She suddenly felt an intense need to protect him. 

Yon knelt down by his parents’ tombstone, carefully placing the two lilies in a vase. 

_Adam and Lily Rogg. Always missed. Always loved._

A gentle rain began falling. Yon wiped at his face. 

Fury hesitantly stepped forward, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I miss them,” he said. “But I can’t imagine what it was like for you. I failed to protect you, and I am so very sorry for that.”

A shiver went through Yon’s body and he looked up. Fury offered him his hand and he took it. Without a word, the two embraced. 

Carol couldn’t hold back her own tears. Yon’s naked sorrow mixed with her own cautious optimism made for a total cacophony in her chest, but that was in a way also representative of where they were right now; in the crossroads between reconciliation and building a new future. 

The rain kept falling. Carol turned her face to the sky, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're at the end. I hope you enjoyed the conclusion to this little AU gift fic. 
> 
> It's been my pleasure to co-write this with you PandoraCleo.


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